


The Case of the Lonely Doctor

by Thorntonsheart



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dating, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, chapters of varying length
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 33,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorntonsheart/pseuds/Thorntonsheart
Summary: “Perhaps I could help somehow?”  Sherlock offers hesitantly, needing to be able to do something, to solve something.“Find me a suitable girlfriend?”  John jokes bitterly.“I could do that.  I’m sure I could design an algorithm that uses data to find you the perfect date.”  Sherlock reaches for his notebook and pen, already scribbling down ideas, unaware of John staring incredulously at him.  At the sound of John’s mug thunking on the wooden table top Sherlock looks up, raising an eyebrow in query.“W..what?”  John crosses his arms and bites at the inside of his bottom lip, studying Sherlock intently before arriving at a decision.  “Oh, what the hell.  Go on then."
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 547
Kudos: 349
Collections: HolmesCon Writers Collection





	1. The Problem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enterthetadpole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enterthetadpole/gifts).



> This story was written for the lovely Enterthetadpole, who 'won' my writing services at HolmesCon2020. I have had a wonderful time coming up with ideas with her and narrowing down possibilities. Tad requested; loving smut, slow, lingering, worshipful sex, bottomlock if possible, the purple shirt of sex, John in a jumper and both men having family time with Rosie. I think I covered it all - even if some of it doesn't happen until much later in the story!
> 
> Tad, it's been a joy! I can't wait to work in collaboration with you!

Sherlock glances up from his microscope at the sound of John walking up the stairs to their flat, observing that his steps are heavy, lacking their usual energy.Sherlock responds to John’s mumbled greeting when he walks by him on his way to the kettle.Sherlock watches, eyes narrowed, as John fills the kettle and switches it on, his shoulders slumped as he reaches for the mugs, eyes fixed on the counter as the kettle boils.With heavy hands, John adds milk and sugar to the mugs, dropping two teabags into their battered old teapot, before resting his hands on the counter, head drooping forward. 

Sherlock turns back to his microscope, his attention ostensibly on the slide, but keeps John in his peripheral vision, aware of his every move and sigh.He looks up again only when a mug thumps down at his elbow, the tea sloshing perilously close to the rim.John drops heavily onto the chair opposite Sherlock, ignoring his own mug of tea and Sherlock’s querying gaze, instead looking up at the ceiling despondently before running his hands over his face, letting them fall heavily on to the table.John sighs loudly before looking directly at Sherlock, sucking in his cheeks before deciding to speak.

“When will I ever learn?”Sherlock studies John, observing the signs that are indicative of a day at the GP surgery and some underlying worry, hints of which he has observed before.

“What happened?”Sherlock queries, moving his microscope to the side, recognising the importance of giving his best friend his full attention.Sherlock knows he can easily listen to John whilst studying his experiment but he has learned, through years of experience, that he also needs to be _seen_ to be giving his full attention.

“I thought I _should_ be dating again; that it was the right thing for me to do.So I reorganised my work appointments and took a late lunch with a ‘lovely’ woman.”John snorts into his mug of tea, the sound devoid of any humour.

“What went wrong?”Sherlock sips at his own tea, barely tasting it, his mind racing.

“Nothing.Everything.It was an unmitigated disaster.”John’s gaze is fixed on the steam rising from his mug, once again avoiding Sherlock’s ever observant eye.

“John, you don't _have_ to be dating again. There’s no _should_ about it.If you're not ready, why would you want to put yourself through that?”Sherlock wants to take back the words the second they take flight.He watches as John sags even further in his chair before sucking in a deep breath and meeting Sherlock’s gaze once more.Sherlock flinches at the emotion he sees there but maintains eye contact, willing John to continue, knowing how hard it still is for John to actually talk about his feelings and how important it is for him to do so.

“Because I'm lonely, Sherlock!”John grits out, his mobile features crumpling.“I don’t expect you to understand.You get so lost in that brilliant head of yours that you don't notice whether I’m here or not.”

“I notice.”Sherlock interjects quietly, but John appears not to hear him and continues on regardless, pain and longing evident in his gruff voice.

‘I'm so fucking lonely.I miss having someone to curl up with, to hold in my arms and feel them holding me back. I miss having someone to kiss.Obviously I miss having someone to fuck.”John winces at his crass wording but offers no apology.“But it’s the small things I miss the most.The touches.The glances.The quiet nights watching crap television or just reading in the same room, but knowing that you're not alone because you can hear them breathing.Feel their warmth.”

“I’m sorry, John.”Sherlock resists the temptation of taking John in his arms, to offer him comfort as he did once before, knowing that the action would not be welcome and likely to send John back inside his prickly shell. 

“Not your fault, Sherlock.It just is, what it is.”John finally sips his tea, his fingers tight around the body of the mug, indicative of the tension he still holds in his body despite his now calm words.“And what it is, is shit.”

“Perhaps I could help somehow?”Sherlock offers hesitantly, needing to be able to do something, to _solve_ something.

“Find me a suitable girlfriend?”John jokes bitterly.

“I could do that.I’m sure I could design an algorithm that uses data to find you the perfect date.”Sherlock reaches for his notebook and pen, already scribbling down ideas, unaware of John staring incredulously at him.At the sound of John’s mug thunking on the wooden table top Sherlock looks up, raising an eyebrow in query.

“W..what?”John crosses his arms and bites at the inside of his bottom lip, studying Sherlock intently before arriving at a decision.“Oh, what the hell.Go on then.You can’t fuck up any worse than I did.”She’s not named but both men know who is being referred to.John may not speak to her directly anymore but the ghost of Mary never seems to be far away.


	2. Little Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are met upon their arrival at the very aptly named Little Monsters Day Nursery by James, one of the key workers in Rosie’s room. In John’s eyes, James seems to be barely more than a kid himself, twenty-five years old as a maximum and barely out of his teenage growth spurt. Despite his young face and hesitant smile, John knows that James is the perfect match for his boisterous, intelligent, ball of energy that occasionally answers to the name of Rosie. James’ calm demeanour keeps Rosie’s energy and impulsiveness directed at appropriate activities and puzzles, his quick mind almost matches her own and his willingness to talk with her and undertake ‘research projects’ whilst the other kids nap has won him a firm place in Rosie’s heart - and an appreciative one in John’s and Sherlock’s.

The sound of an alarm startles them both and Sherlock glances briefly at the time on his phone as he switches the alert off.He looks across at John, who is staring, unseeing, at his empty mug, completely unaware of the time.

“Do you want me to collect Rosie from Nursery?”Sherlock closes his notebook and stands, smoothing down his shirt and tucking it more securely in his trousers, the move habitual rather than necessary.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.”John gets up from his chair and collects their mugs, rinsing them briefly under the tap before leaving them in the sink to be properly washed later.His movements are still lethargic and Sherlock makes a decision.

“We’ll both go.I haven't been outside the flat all day and the walk will do me good.”Sherlock walks to the coat hooks and hands John his jacket before pulling his own coat on with a flourish.“Grab some of the seeds we keep in the cupboard, we’ll feed the ducks on the way home, I’m sure Rosie will love that.”

John opens the cupboard and pulls out a little pot of seeds that they keep purely for the purpose of feeding the local wildfowl. He smiles down at the pot, fingers stroking over the deliberate, if wobbly, strokes that spell out ‘Rosie’ in bright orange crayon on the white label.He still doesn’t know who had been more proud that day; Rosie, him or Sherlock.Still smiling, he tucks the pot into his pocket and closes the door to the flat, jogging slightly to catch up with Sherlock.

They are met upon their arrival at the very aptly named Little Monsters Day Nursery by James, one of the key workers in Rosie’s room.In John’s eyes, James seems to be barely more than a kid himself, twenty-five years old as a maximum and barely out of his teenage growth spurt.Despite his young face and hesitant smile, John knows that James is the perfect match for his boisterous, intelligent, ball of energy that occasionally answers to the name of Rosie.James’ calm demeanour keeps Rosie’s energy and impulsiveness directed at appropriate activities and puzzles, his quick mind almost matches her own and his willingness to talk with her and undertake ‘research projects’ whilst the other kids nap has won him a firm place in Rosie’s heart - and an appreciative one in John’s and Sherlock’s.

“How’s she been?” John queries, glancing outside to the fenced off garden that currently resembles an ant hill with all the children scurrying from place to place.He spots the blonde, curling hair of his daughter, holding back a smile when Sherlock excuses himself and wanders closer to the window.

“She’s been great, Doctor Watson.We’ve just started our project on mini beasts.Rosie was able to name quite a few of them, often using the correct Latin terminology.”James walks with John as they head out in to the garden, Sherlock rejoining them.“She has also painted her own ‘Very Hungry Caterpillar’ today.”He smiles as Rosie runs up to them, wrapping her arms around Sherlock’s legs before turning to her father, arms outstretched for a hug.John lifts her up, planting a kiss on her warm forehead before transferring her weight easily on to his hip. 

Leaning across, Sherlock lifts a green-tinted curl between two long fingers and smiles down at Rosie.“Did you manage to get _any_ paint on the paper?”Rosie giggles in response and squirms in her father’s arms until John puts her down.Pulling them along, one hand held in each of hers, she drags them to where the paintings are drying and points at one in particular.

“That one is mine.”She announces proudly as they look at the picture, Sherlock praises her use of colour and John tells her that she captured the face perfectly.She beams up at them and points at a few more paintings.“That is Joel’s, that’s Emily’s, that’s Rajesh’s and this one belongs to Toni.”John recognises the names of her friends and praises their work too, privately thinking that Rosie’s is superior even as he admits he is most definitely biased.

“Let’s go and get your bag, Watson.”Sherlock takes her by the hand and guides her to where he knows her bag is kept.She is still in her coat from her time outside so it doesn't take long to settle her little backpack, in the shape of a fuzzy sheep, on her back and lead her back to John.They say their goodbyes to everyone and step out into the early evening sunlight.

“Do you want to go straight home or do you want to go and feed the ducks?”Sherlock queries, Rosie’s hand held tightly in his own. 

“I want to go and feed Arthur!”Rosie declares happily, linking her free hand with John’s, heedless to the looks and smiles their little group gets as they make their way to the park.Rosie has linked them like this since she was old enough to walk and John, much to Sherlock’s surprise, has never protested.Neither has Sherlock; it’s been a very long time since he worried about what people thought about him - well, most people.

“Arthur?”John looks at Sherlock, his head tilted in query.He thought he knew all the names of Rosie’s friends but this one is unfamiliar to him, it takes him a moment to realise that she is talking about one of the birds.He grins when Sherlock rolls his eyes at him, the gesture oddly affectionate.

“That’s Arthur,”Rosie points out to where a lone duck swims.“He’s new.The other ducks aren’t used to him yet so he gets lonely.Sherlock and I come and visit him when you are at work sometimes.”

John opens his mouth to say that Arthur is a female duck but closes it quickly at a sharp gesture from Sherlock, realising that Rosie knows how to tell the difference between a male duck and a female one.

“Arthur was born in the wrong body.He has a girl’s body but he’s a boy really, like Edmund who works at my Nursery.”Rosie scatters some seeds on to the water, clapping delightedly when Arthur starts to swim over.“Edmund is new too.He makes me laugh a lot and has green eyes and blonde hair.He does silly voices when he reads, although they're not as good as Sherlock’s.”

“He sounds very nice, just like Arthur.”John responds, glancing over at Sherlock and meeting his smiling eyes.“Oh look, some of the other drakes are coming over to eat too.I think Arthur is making new friends.”

“Good.I don’t want Arthur to be lonely.”Rosie scatters more seeds over the water and squats down to watch the ducks more closely, her blue eyes intent.Sherlock squats down beside her and together they quietly observe how the group of drakes accept Arthur as one of their own before they all swim away, happily full of seeds and ready for a nap.

“Come on, Sweetheart, time to get you home and having some dinner of your own.”John puts the pot of seeds in his pocket and Sherlock helps to settle Rosie on John’s shoulders, knowing that the cooler evening air can sometimes limit John’s range of movement. He walks close by John’s side, ostensibly to catch Rosie should she fall but Sherlock can admit, if only to himself, that he enjoys this closeness, this sense of family that these trips bring.


	3. Found Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock shakes the suds off his hands, before drying them on a towel and rejoining John and Rosie on the sofa. The dreaded programme has finished and he is just in time to hear the bedtime story being read, he smiles down at Rosie when she snuggles in, warmth spreading through him when John also moves closer. Rosie’s eyelids are drooping before the end of the story and John decides to forego her bath, Rosie complains when John picks her up to take her upstairs, reaching out for Sherlock to follow; something he does so willingly. 

Sherlock and John now dine earlier than they used to, ensuring that they eat with Rosie whenever possible.It is part of a larger routine that Sherlock still finds himself being very much surprised at enjoying.When the three of them are able to eat together, they chat about everything from Rosie’s day to John’s more unusual cases; when they are finished eating, they wash up together.Sometimes Rosie stands on a chair, Sherlock behind her, arms reaching around her to the sink, as she ‘helps’ with the washing up; this generally results in plenty of laughter, plenty of bubbles and everyone getting wet.After dinner, Rosie generally draws or plays with her toys, sometimes they watch television together, all snuggled up on the sofa, a blanket over their knees on the cooler evenings.Sherlock and John take turns bathing her, which involves more bubbles, laughter and everyone involved getting wet, whether they are actually in the bath or not.Finally, Rosie will go to bed, once again they take turns reading to her, sometimes teaming up to read.This often results in Rosie becoming more awake as she shrieks with laughter at the voices they adopt and the faces they both pull.As a result this is a rare, but treasured, event.

Tonight is no exception to the rule.John makes a simple dinner of pasta in a rich vegetable and tomato sauce which he serves with a small portion of garlic bread, knowing how much Rosie likes to dip it in her sauce.He cuts Rosie’s spaghetti up into shorter lengths before giving it her, making it easier for her to twirl it on her fork and spoon, although she still ends up with a large amount of sauce around her face.They chat whilst they eat, Rosie tells them about mini beasts and announces she wants to keep an earwig as a pet.Sherlock says it sounds like a wonderful idea and then talks to her about how her pet will be happiest living in its own home, with its family and friends, but that they can ‘visit’ often.Rosie readily agrees and John hides his smile at this clever piece of redirection by sipping his drink, happiness sitting warmly in his chest. 

Sherlock voluntarily washes up alone, there’s only a few pieces and it won’t take him long, whilst John and Rosie watch an episode of ‘In The Night Garden’, a show that Sherlock simply can’t abide.Whilst rinsing out the glasses and cleaning the pots and pans, Sherlock lets his mind work at the problem of John and his possible dates.He considers variables such as height, build, skin colour, hair colour, eye colour and personality traits.John seems to prefer a slim, slightly curvaceous build; no preference seems exist for skin, hair or eye colour; he seems to value intelligence and a quick sense of humour over physical characteristics.

Sherlock shakes the suds off his hands, before drying them on a towel and rejoining John and Rosie on the sofa.The dreaded programme has finished and he is just in time to hear the bedtime story being read, he smiles down at Rosie when she snuggles in, warmth spreading through him when John also moves closer.Rosie’s eyelids are drooping before the end of the story and John decides to forego her bath, Rosie complains when John picks her up to take her upstairs, reaching out for Sherlock to follow; something he does so willingly. 

Rosie has her own bedroom; painted a soft, warm yellow on three of the walls, the other a dark blue, stencilled with hundreds of stars forming constellations - a result of Sherlock’s painstaking research and work, determined to show his goddaughter the universe.Mrs Hudson had contracted builders to redesign one of the storage rooms in to a bedroom for John whilst he had been away on a week long medical conference.He had returned home tired, damp and in desperate need of a decent cup of tea; he had been greeted at the door of 221B by three overly innocent, slightly paint spattered faces.Mrs Hudson had made him tea, Sherlock had taken his coat and bags and Rosie had bounced on the balls of her feet the whole time he had sipped his tea, her curls jiggling with her barely suppressed excitement. 

It had been Sherlock who broken first in the end, whispering in Rosie’s ear and encouraging her to lead John upstairs, her small hand tugging eagerly at her father’s.John had gone, semi-willingly, wondering what mysterious experiment they had set up now.He hadn’t been surprised to be led to the door of an unused room, knowing that Sherlock and Rosie could often be found examining the dust and spiders, heedless of the grime on their clothes and the cobwebs in their hair; but John had been left speechless at what he saw the moment the door had been opened.Cream walls and rich wooden furniture greeted him, his feet sinking into a soft grey carpet as he had stepped inside the room. He’d looked with grateful eyes at the double bed, positioned so that the last of the day’s sunlight fell on the dove grey bed linen.He’d hugged Mrs Hudson and Rosie before giving in to temptation and dragging a surprised Sherlock in for a hug too.He’d still been lost for words when Rosie had shown him around her newly decorated room, only able to make vague noises of happiness and wiping at his eyes every time he thought he was unobserved.It was in that moment that John had realised that he never wanted to leave his little found family again.

Once in Rosie’s bedroom, John and Sherlock change her into her pyjamas and tuck her under her duvet, her cuddly bee beside her; the moves familiar and well practiced, perfectly in sync as always.Sherlock is seated half way down the bed and John lies next her, a book in his hands, his silver hair blending with Rosie’s golden hair on her pillow.John reads aloud ‘Guess How Much I Love You’ his voice soft and loving, oblivious to the fond look on Sherlock’s face as he gazes at the two most important people in the world to him.When the story ends, both men drop a kiss on a yawning Rosie’s forehead and return, as quietly as they can, to their living room. 

John turns on the monitoring device that they have on the mantlepiece - kept between the skull and the knife, both of which are well out of Rosie’s reach.The monitor isn’t really necessary but it’s a long way up to Rosie’s room and it gives John comfort to know that he will be able to hear Rosie easily should she need anything.Sherlock moves to the kitchen and puts the kettle on, efficiently sorting out everything that is needed for their evening tea.In many ways, Sherlock muses, they are like an old married couple; they have their routines, their favourite seats and the ease of familiarity that comes from many years of being together.Sherlock likes this relationship, this steadiness, especially when it is something he is returning to after conducting overly exciting, occasionally dangerous, investigations and all the adventures those have been known to take him - and John - on.It is something he never thought to want and now something he never wants to be without.He is still very much married to his work but he considers it as more of an open marriage now, allowing him to fully enjoy his time with John and Rosie and the quiet domesticity that they bring.

Carrying their mugs into the living room, Sherlock sets one down on the small table next to John and sits down in his own chair, blowing over the surface of his hot drink before taking a tentative sip, nose crinkling as he swallows.John’s mood has improved since he first got home; he appears much more relaxed and seemingly content but Sherlock knows that John’s earlier mood can easily return.So, as much as he might wish otherwise, he forces himself to address the issue of finding John someone to date.


	4. The Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay then. My first rule; no setting me up with deliberately awful dates. If you’re going to do this, I want it done properly.”
> 
> “I would have it no other way.” Sherlock narrows his eyes at John before announcing his first rule. “No sex on the first date, as a minimum, it would skew the data set.” He raises his free hand, halting John’s anticipated protestations. “Physical compatibility does not necessarily equate to emotional compatibility, you are looking for something long-term, not an easy shag.” John hides a smile behind his mug, even after all these years he still finds it amusing to hear Sherlock’s posh tones drawl out such common vocabulary. “Lust should not be mistaken for the possibility of love. Masturbation in the shower before a date may help to address that problem somewhat. Did you find it useful before? I know it is something that you have always indulged in with a reasonable amount of regularity.”

Sherlock bites his lip, eyes flicking over John, internally debating on how best to word what he has to say.In the end, Sherlock just decides to launch in to it, knowing that John is well used to his lack of tact and poor timing.

“If you are serious about letting me find you someone to date then we need to set some ground rules.”John blinks at him for a moment, obviously trying to parse what is being said to him.

“You were serious?”John blinks owlishly a few more times before reaching for his mug, not feeling particularly thirsty anymore but needing to do something with his hands, something to stop him fidgeting and Sherlock reading how nervous he is with this arrangement.

“Of course,”Sherlock sips at his own tea, observing John over the rim of his mug.John fidgets a little and looks almost like he wants to back out of the whole idea before, ever the soldier, he nods his head and looks up to meet Sherlock’s clear gaze.

“Okay then.My first rule; no setting me up with deliberately awful dates.If you’re going to do this, I want it done properly.”

“I would have it no other way.”Sherlock narrows his eyes at John before announcing his first rule. “No sex on the first date, as a minimum, it would skew the data set.”He raises his free hand, halting John’s anticipated protestations.“Physical compatibility does not necessarily equate to emotional compatibility, you are looking for something long-term, not an easy shag.”John hides a smile behind his mug, even after all these years he still finds it amusing to hear Sherlock’s posh tones drawl out such common vocabulary.“Lust should not be mistaken for the possibility of love.Masturbation in the shower before a date may help to address that problem somewhat.Did you find it useful before?I know it is something that you have always indulged in with a reasonable amount of regularity.”

John chokes on his mouthful of tea, trying not to blush at the causal mention of his masturbatory habits. “Yeah, I’m not going to dignify that question with an answer; but yes, I agree to no sex on the first date.As a minimum.”It’s no skin off his nose to agree to such as thing as, truthfully, John can’t imagine that he will want to have sex with any woman Sherlock decides to set him up with.

“You should stay, wherever possible, to the very end of the date.” 

“Agreed.But the dates are to be dinner dates.That way I am not on my own with them if they decide to go full bunny boiler on me.”John drinks more of his tea, crossing his legs at the ankle. “And you are to pay half the costs.”

“A sensible point.”Sherlock places his empty mug down and steeples his fingers together, resting them briefly on his full lower lip.“No going back to their place, no going on any dates without passing it by me first.”

“Of course.Wouldn’t want to ‘skew the data set’.”John smirks.“No much how much I might want to ‘skew’ my date!”

“John! That was truly appalling.”Despite his censorious words, Sherlock is grinning; a small, lopsided smile that isn’t seen nearly enough in John’s opinion.The smile fades and Sherlock becomes serious once more. “You will be entirely truthful with me, even if the subject matter makes you uncomfortable.”

“I will try my best.Talking about my feelings is still quite difficult for me at times.”John admits, looking away from Sherlock, staring into their empty fire grate as he briefly debates the wisdom of this latest scheme of Sherlock’s.

“I appreciate that, John.I will, of course, be taking that in to account.”Sherlock taps his fingers against his lips whilst mentally examining the data he has already gathered.“I retain the ability to alter, adjust and add to the rules at any time that I deem it to be necessary.”

“Fine.So do I.”John returns his gaze to Sherlock, forcibly relaxing his shoulders and taking a few cleansing breaths.“When shall we start then?”

“It’s Tuesday today, you have a half day at the surgery on Friday, so Friday evening would be the ideal time.It gives you the afternoon with Rosie and allows you to still have time to get ready for your date and, if you wish it, leaves Saturday evening open for a second date.”Sherlock sips at his rapidly cooling tea.“If you decide that this is something that you wish to continue with, we can make Friday a semi-regular date night.”

“Sounds reasonable.Do I get to see a photo or something before I meet her?Get to know anything about her?”John queries, ignoring the nervous knot in his stomach.

“I will tell you her name and a brief summary of her background.That should be enough for some common ground on the date, anything else you wish to know you can discover whilst on your date.” 

“Should I wear a rose in my lapel and look out for a woman doing the same?”John jokes, although his levity does little to alleviate his nerves.

“Don’t be an idiot, John.”Sherlock responds, his stomach knotting with the thought that this might be the thing that finally takes John away from him.“I will book the table in advance in your name.You will simply give your name at the door and be led to the appropriate table; your date will do the same.”

John nods in understanding and, nothing more needing to be said, he allows a companionable silence to fall between them, the last of the daylight filtering weakly through the windows.They eventually swap to the sofa, deciding to watch something on the tv and the view is much better from there, or so John reasons, settling on an old detective film.Sherlock likes to pick holes in the investigative work and John likes to criticise any medical procedures.In this comfortable way, in the fading light, John and Sherlock spend the last of the day together; each busy with their own tangled thoughts but aware of the comforting presence of the other.


	5. Getting Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you at least remember where you are supposed to meet her?”
> 
> “Yes. The little Greek place, just off Piccadilly where we stopped for lunch after you solved that case involving the wax mannequins.” John answers perfectly, he can’t recall the name of the restaurant but he can picture its beautiful exterior perfectly and the taste of the lovely fish he had eaten.
> 
> “Correct.” He places a large, warm hand on John’s shoulder and squeezes briefly. “You’ve been to war, John, you can survive one date.”

Friday arrives much too soon for John’s comfort and he finds himself tugging at the collar of his shirt whilst chatting with Sherlock, trying to keep his mind off his upcoming date.He’d spent a very pleasant afternoon at the park with Rosie, they’d spent time in the playground and at the pond, laughing and playing games.They’d visited Arthur so that Rosie could tell him all about her day and John had gasped in surprise when Arthur had happily quacked back.John’s happy memories evaporate when the collar of his shirt rubs roughly against his skin once more, bringing him reluctantly back to the here and now.

“Why aren’t you wearing the jumper that Rosie bought you for Christmas?”Sherlock queries, eyes flicking briefly over John’s form before turning his attention back to the castle he is helping Rosie build with her blocks.The jumper had been a joint effort from both Rosie and Sherlock; he had selected a few colours and styles and had let Rosie make the final decision.“The colour is complementary to your eye colour, bringing out the unusual blue and green hues that would usually go unnoticed.The cut of the jumper works well to display the broadness of your chest and shoulders.”

“No.It’s too nice for a first date.”John runs a hand through his hair distractedly before quietly cursing and smoothing it back in to shape, not registering the rare compliment he has been given.“Perhaps for a second date.If the person is really special.”

“I thought the purpose of a first date was to create a good enough impression that a second date would be wanted?”Sherlock queries, although, he admits, dating has never been a personal strong point of his.

“What’s her name again?” John tugs at his collar again, ignoring Sherlock’s question, frowning when Sherlock stands up and slaps John’s hands away for his collar.

“For the last time, John.”Sherlock sighs as he adjusts the offending article, his fingers brushing against the nape of John’s neck as he does so.With a final smoothing action, Sherlock moves away, satisfied with the sit of the material.“Her name is Erin.She is 36 years old, originally from Ireland.She now lives in London in a small studio flat.She works for the National Portrait Gallery as one of the curators.”Sherlock nudges Rosie to smack her father’s hand again when he once again tugs at his collar, disturbing the perfect line.“Do you at least remember where you are supposed to meet her?”

“Yes.The little Greek place, just off Piccadilly where we stopped for lunch after you solved that case involving the wax mannequins.”John answers perfectly, he can’t recall the name of the restaurant but he can picture its beautiful exterior perfectly and the taste of the lovely fish he had eaten.

“Correct.”He places a large, warm hand on John’s shoulder and squeezes briefly.“You’ve been to war, John, you can survive one date.”

Some of the nervous tension leaves John’s body at Sherlock’s words and reassuring touch and he puffs out a calming breath before turning to his daughter and lifting her in to his arms.

“Be good for Sherlock, little monster!” He teases her, tickling her sides just enough to make her wriggle.“Clear up any mess you make, open the window if there’s a bad smell and remember to have some dinner.”John’s words are directed at both Sherlock and Rosie, neither argue the necessity.Rosie because she is too young to think her father anything other than all-knowing; Sherlock because he knows how easy it is for them to become too absorbed in their experiments to remember to tidy up or eat.


	6. Cat Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How was it?” Sherlock queries, observing the relaxed line of John’s shoulders and the ease of his movements as he hangs up his coat and slips off his shoes.
> 
> “Nice. She was unexpectedly nice.” John smiles, popping into the kitchen to get himself a bottle of beer, collecting one for Sherlock at the same time. He drops in to his armchair after handing over the beer, stretching his legs out before him. “Erin was a very pleasant surprise, thank you.”
> 
> “Really?” Sherlock tries to look happy for John’s sake, even as his heart sinks. “I got it right first time? That was unexpected.”

It is barely half past nine when Sherlock hears the front door close.Initially he dismisses it as Mrs Hudson putting out the recycling.It is only when he hears the sound of John’s distinctive footsteps that he pays more attention, putting his book down in readiness of John’s imminent arrival in the living room.The footfalls are even - likely indicative of a successful date, or at least not a disastrous one.Sherlock has to wait a few minutes to definitively find out how it went, as John heads straight up to the next floor, in all likelihood checking in on Rosie.Sure enough, the quiet sounds of John moving around in Rosie’s room come through on the monitoring device.Sherlock is able to deduce when John tucks her in more securely, when he presses a kiss to her forehead and when he turns around to either go to his own bedroom or to walk down the stairs - and to him. 

Sherlock relaxes when it becomes obvious that John is coming to talk to him.A knot of anxiety still rests heavy in his chest but he hopes, no matter what it will mean for him, that John will find someone that will add to his future happiness through these dates.

“How was it?”Sherlock queries, observing the relaxed line of John’s shoulders and the ease of his movements as he hangs up his coat and slips off his shoes.

“Nice.She was unexpectedly nice.”John smiles, popping into the kitchen to get himself a bottle of beer, collecting one for Sherlock at the same time.He drops in to his armchair after handing over the beer, stretching his legs out before him.“Erin was a very pleasant surprise, thank you.”

“Really?”Sherlock tries to look happy for John’s sake, even as his heart sinks.“I got it right first time?That was unexpected.”

“I wouldn’t say you got it ‘right’, but it wasn’t awful.”John rubs his socked feet together as he sips at his beer, relaxing contentedly into his beloved armchair.“She was very nice but there wasn’t a ‘spark’ to speak of.I’m sure Erin and I could become friends, but nothing more than that.”

“Interesting.” Sherlock sips at his beer, wrinkling his nose a little at the bitter taste.“Tell me what you liked about her.”

“What, physically?Or personality wise?”John leans his elbow on the arm of the chair, resting his head on two fingers, his posture very relaxed.

“Both.In whatever order you wish.”Sherlock sips at his beer once more, wrinkling his nose again before placing it on his side table, unsure why he had accepted it in the first place.

“Um, she had pretty eyes, pretty hair.Nice smile.”John smiles into his drink.“Nice body.I liked how intelligent she was.”

“Okay.Specifics.What in particular about her eyes, hair, smile, intelligence?”Sherlock rolls his eyes.“Her body.”

“I like the shape of her eyes, almond shaped, I think.Her hair was a nice colour, a dark red…”

“Auburn.”Sherlock corrects him.

“Auburn.”John acknowledges.“Had a wave to it too.The smile was just a smile, I don’t know how to explain it any better than that.I liked that she was easy to talk to, not shy about starting a conversation, she got me thinking out of the box a few times.”John grins.“Her body was nice, curvaceous.”

“Any dislikes?”

“Not really.”John sips his beer again, rubbing his temple whilst he thinks.“If I’m going to be stupidly picky I’d guess perhaps her pets?”

“Her pets?”It’s an unexpected answer.

“Yeah.She’s got five or six cats, there was fur on her clothes.I got to hear all about them, which I guess was fair in a way as she got to hear all about you and Rosie!”John laughs as he finishes his beer.Sherlock narrows his eyes and looks more carefully at John’s clothing, able to see evidence of cat hair transference, most likely from an embrace at the end of the meal.

“Yes or no to a second date?”Sherlock chews on the inside of his cheek as he waits for an answer.

“No. She’s lovely, but not for me.”

“Shall I find you another date for next week?”Sherlock queries, working to keep his voice light.

“Yeah.I trust you.”John stands and moves to sit on the sofa, patting the seat beside him.“Enough date talk; I’m not ready to sleep yet, keep me company for a bit.We can watch some tv and you can tell me what mischief you and Rosie got up to tonight.”

The rest of the evening passes in light-hearted chatter whilst ignoring the tv and John can’t think of a nicer evening.Strangely, it has nothing to do with his date with Erin.


	7. Helping Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is also exceptionally good at calming Rosie down when she throws a rare tantrum, John privately believes she’s so good because of spending so many years with Sherlock - and, he reluctantly admits - himself. Rosie likes spending time at Molly’s, fussing over her cats and playing dress up; John has photos on the fridge showing Rosie and Molly dressed as pirates, 1950s gangsters - complete with penciled on moustaches, dinosaurs and his very favourite, Bo-Peep and her big sister and all their sheep. When John had commented that the sheep looked an awful lot like a bunch of disgruntled cats he had been told by both Rosie and Molly that he’ lacked imagination’ and that they ‘felt sorry’ for him.

The rest of John’s week passes by relatively quickly and pleasantly - by their standards, anyway.He has a case with Sherlock that takes them out of London overnight, staking out a warehouse that is a purported meeting point for local smuggling bigwigs.

It’s at times like these that John has learned to rely on people other than Sherlock for help with Rosie’s care.At first, this had hurt his pride but he had soon realised how ridiculous this was and how much Rosie had thrived for having her extended family. 

Mrs Hudson has been an absolute godsend, stepping in at the last minute whenever they are called out on an emergency or a job overruns.Rosie adores her ‘Nanna’ with all of her heart and eagerly looks forward to spending any time with her.She has learned to French knit using a wooden cotton reel with some nails banged in it and Mrs Hudson’s spare wool; she practices her counting and colours using the spare buttons Mrs Hudson keeps in an old biscuit tin but her absolute favourite activity is making butterfly cupcakes.Rosie has her own apron, wooden spoon and mixing bowl that are kept in Mrs Hudson’s kitchen; her apron is a scaled-down replica of her Nanna’s and Rosie beams with pride every time it is tied around her waist.Sometimes, Rosie and Mrs Hudson play cards whilst waiting for the cupcakes to cook, gaining buttons for each win whilst playing Snap.Other times, they will watch one of the many makeover programs on television - although Mrs Hudson only lets Rosie watch house makeovers, believing that watching a wall being torn apart is much nicer to see than watching a person’s sense of self being torn apart.

Molly has been amazing too; making sure that Mrs Hudson isn't tiring herself out and popping by to take Rosie out shopping and to various medical museums.Sherlock had been a little jealous at first, he’d wanted to visit the Royal London Medical Museum for years but had never quite made the time, eventually realising that he got more enjoyment from hearing about all the ‘yucky, gooey and amazing’ things in there from a very excited Rosie than he would ever have experienced wandering around the exhibits himself.Molly is also exceptionally good at calming Rosie down when she throws a rare tantrum, John privately believes she’s so good because of spending so many years with Sherlock - and, he reluctantly admits - himself.Rosie likes spending time at Molly’s, fussing over her cats and playing dress up;John has photos on the fridge showing Rosie and Molly dressed as pirates, 1950s gangsters - complete with penciled on moustaches, dinosaurs and his very favourite, Bo-Peep and her big sister and all their sheep.When John had commented that the sheep looked an awful lot like a bunch of disgruntled cats he had been told by both Rosie and Molly that he’ lacked imagination’ and that they ‘felt sorry’ for him.

Greg Lestrade pops by whenever possible, always ready with a warm smile and an easy laugh.When he can, he takes Rosie out to play football and generally get very muddy, afterwards they sit side by side on a bench eating ice cream or sipping hot chocolate.Rosie seems thoroughly enamoured with Greg’s silver hair, asking to touch it quite often; John’s own silvering hair doesn’t appear to capture her attention in quite the same way.

Amazingly, even Mycroft and Harry have been known to spend time with Rosie.She’s still a little wary of them both but she had given Mycroft a big, if slightly sticky, cuddle when he had gifted her with a miniature version of his umbrella - something she had been fascinated with since she wasfirst able to walk.Harry prefers to see Rosie whilst John is present, something that suits John perfectly.Rosie will sit next to her aunt, mirroring the way she drinks her tea, wide eyed when the occasional curse word slips out of Harry’s mouth.Harry is slowly loosening up and will sometimes sit on the floor with her niece and share a story.Rosie listens very quietly, leaning against Harry’s side and often relaxing enough to doze off at the end of the story.Harry still looks very alarmed whenever this happens but is now confident enough to lift Rosie up and place her on the sofa, sitting on the floor in front of it to ensure Rosie doesn’t roll off.

Before John knows it, it is Friday once more and he is getting ready for another date night.He knows that her name is Louisa, that she is French and has a medical practice in Harley Street.Sherlock has refused to give him more information and John is fighting off unexpected nerves; he has the strangest urge not to disappoint Sherlock by messing this date up.

He adjusts his shirt one last time, smoothing the fall of it over his chest and stomach, before collecting his wallet and keys and leaving his room.His walk downstairs is accompanied by the sound of violin and laughter, the mixture of which never fails to warm John’s heart.

His arrival in the living room is greeted by the sight of Sherlock _and_ Rosie playing.Sherlock plays away on his violin, the beautiful music he makes no match for his carefree smile as he watches Rosie very seriously imitating his moves on her toy violin, her full lips in a miniature pout.The kind-hearted laughter comes from Sherlock as he admires his tiny student, for a moment Rosie’s pout grows into a scowl but then the moment passes and she smiles up at Sherlock.As reluctant as John is to break up this happy scene, he is even more unwilling to go on his date without saying goodbye to Rosie.Or to Sherlock.

John waits patiently for them to finish, knowing better than to interrupt, happy to watch as they play together, a soft smile on his face.They reach the end of the piece and Rosie carefully puts her violin down before running up to her father and hugging his legs.

“You look so pretty, Daddy!”John laughs and picks her up, resting her easily on his hip.

“Thank you, Sweetheart.”He presses a kiss to her forehead before popping, a now wriggling, Rosie back down on the floor.John spreads his arms out, inviting comment from Sherlock.

“I’m sure Louisa will appreciate the effort.”High praise indeed from Sherlock, if delivered a little unenthusiastically.


	8. Date Deferred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “John?” Sherlock’s careful whisper carries easily enough in the quiet flat.
> 
> “Yeah. Yes, it’s me.” He moves towards his chair, detouring to the sofa when he notices Rosie curled up on Sherlock’s lap there, sound asleep in her favourite yellow pyjamas. “Do you want me to take her?”
> 
> “No, she’s fine.” John has to admit that Rosie does look very comfortable. “She kept waking up and wondering if you were home yet. She fell asleep about an hour ago, just after my fourth rendition of Brahms’ Lullaby.”
> 
> “You played?” John takes a careful seat on the sofa, taking care not to jostle either Sherlock or Rosie.
> 
> “Hummed. She was reticent to be put down.” Sherlock shifts her weight a little before fixing John with an interrogative gaze. “I take it the date went well.”
> 
> “Yeah, sort of.” John laughs awkwardly, rubbing at the nape of his neck. “She seems very nice. Great in a crisis, as it turns out.”

When John returns home it is just gone midnight, he’s exhausted but his mind is buzzing from the night’s events.He quietly opens the flat door, foregoing turning the main light on, and slips his coat and shoes off, lining them up next to Sherlock’s, his eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness of the room.

“John?”Sherlock’s careful whisper carries easily enough in the quiet flat.

“Yeah.Yes, it’s me.”He moves towards his chair, detouring to the sofa when he notices Rosie curled up on Sherlock’s lap there, sound asleep in her favourite yellow pyjamas.“Do you want me to take her?”

“No, she’s fine.”John has to admit that Rosie does look very comfortable.“She kept waking up and wondering if you were home yet.She fell asleep about an hour ago, just after my fourth rendition of Brahms’ Lullaby.”

“You played?”John takes a careful seat on the sofa, taking care not to jostle either Sherlock or Rosie.

“Hummed.She was reticent to be put down.”Sherlock shifts her weight a little before fixing John with an interrogative gaze.“I take it the date went well.”

“Yeah, sort of.”John laughs awkwardly, rubbing at the nape of his neck.“She seems very nice.Great in a crisis, as it turns out.”

“A crisis?”John blames the dim light for why Sherlock doesn't just read precisely what has happened from his clothes or posture.Or perhaps the poor man is just exhausted from trying to get a fractious toddler to sleep, John knows just how mentally and physically tiring that can be.

“Yeah.There was an accident outside the restaurant.Low speed hit-and-run.Louisa and I were first on scene, nothing too serious but we tended to the injured pedestrian until the ambulance turned up; then we were asked to follow on to the hospital, once we were there we met with the police and had to give statements.”

“Quite the first date.”Sherlock muses, unsure why he feels so jealous of Louisa’s competency.

“Sort of.We are having another go tomorrow lunchtime, she has plans in the evening, might actually manage to eat this time.The date counts as a re-do really, so I thought I’d be okay to agree to it without checking with you first.I’ll ask Mrs Hudson if she minds having Rosie.”John rubs his stomach and glances over his shoulder to the kitchen.“I need to eat before I can even contemplate sleep.”

“Let me take this one up to bed and then I’ll come and keep you company whilst you eat.I think there’s some leftover take-away in the fridge.”Sherlock gets to his feet, graceful as ever, the extra weight of Rosie causing him no problems.“Avoid the red box though.”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate the company.I need time to slow my brain down a bit, I think.”John watches Sherlock carry Rosie upstairs, once again struck by how much Sherlock has changed over the years; going from what appeared to be an unfeeling automaton to a man that shares his thoughts and feelings with those that matter.John knows how fortunate he is to be included in this select group although, he admits, he doesn't always realise what is right in front of him.John is still smiling to himself when Sherlock quietly returns and his smile automatically broadens, a feeling of rightness descending.


	9. Sherlock's Snit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How was your date?” The question is clipped, the words overly enunciated, his eyes cold.
> 
> “Good. Yeah, really good.” John answers, keen to make Sherlock appreciate just how much he likes Louisa.
> 
> Sherlock snorts and raises his eyebrow, his thoughts obvious.
> 
> “I thought the whole point of this was finding someone that worked well with me and that I like. I like Louisa!” John raises his hands in frustration, working hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice, wary of upsetting Rosie.
> 
> “Well, I don’t!” Sherlock retorts, pale eyes flashing; the emotion in them taking John by surprise.

Saturday’s date is a lot less hectic and John feels like it had gone rather well.Their conversation had felt easy and relaxed, the food had been good and the whole event had been accident-free, which John had counted as a definite bonus; at least whilst dining with Louisa, John suspects that Sherlock would rather have enjoyed a crime to solve over lunch.John had received a warm kiss on the check in farewell from Louisa and a promise of another date if he was interested; John had given an ambiguous answer, wanting to discuss the date with Sherlock first before making any definite decision either way.

It’s mid afternoon when John arrives home and he gets to spend some much loved time with his daughter.Rosie is her usual bubbly self as they play a simple shopping and money game but she is obviously chewing something over, glancing at her father more and more frequently and getting distracted from her game.John glances over at Sherlock, hoping for some help, but Sherlock appears to be in a bit of a snit, his focus fixed on the thick file he has on the table in front of him, his shoulders tense.

“Daddy, what’s a date?”Rosie finally asks, abandoning her game and climbing on to John’s lap.

“It’s where two people who like each other go out and have fun.”John answers, the words feeling oddly familiar.Out of the corner of his eye he notices Sherlock tense before glancing up from his papers.

“Oh, like you and Sherlock.”Rosie’s innocent words bring a lump to John’s throat and he looks over at Sherlock again, suddenly uncomfortable.He meets Sherlock’s eye who holds his gaze for an extended moment before looking away; swallowing and turning back to Rosie, John makes himself play with one of her curls, his moves too stilted to appear natural.

“Yeah, something like that.”John answers at last.The awkward silence lasts until Sherlock closes his folder and turns his attention fully on John.

“How was your date?”The question is clipped, the words overly enunciated, his eyes cold.

“Good.Yeah, really good.”John answers, keen to make Sherlock appreciate just how much he likes Louisa.

Sherlock snorts and raises his eyebrow, his thoughts obvious.

“I thought the whole point of this was finding someone that worked well with me and that I like.I _like_ Louisa!”John raises his hands in frustration, working hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice, wary of upsetting Rosie. 

“Well, I don’t!” Sherlock retorts, pale eyes flashing; the emotion in them taking John by surprise.

“Were… were you there?”John asks, suddenly feeling out of his depth, knowing more is going on here but unable to identify precisely what.

“I might have been in the neighbourhood.”Sherlock answers evasively.

“Sherlock…”

“Yes, fine, I admit it.I walked by.A few times, in fact.Louisa ignored the conversation with you to look at her phone over twenty times.And that’s only how many I observed in the few minutes I was able to see you both.”He looks away for a moment before meeting John’s eye again.“As if anything on her mobile could be more important than you.” 

For a moment John is silent, stunned by Sherlock’s words, his anger at Sherlock’s lack of respect of boundaries melting away.“I honestly feel like I should be cross with you for invading my privacy.Again.But I can’t.That was a really nice thing to say, patently untrue, but nice.”

“Why would I lie, John?”Once again, Sherlock holds John’s gaze for just a moment too long for John to feel completely comfortable.John looks away only when Rosie hands him his game-piece, wanting to play her game again.John is grateful when Rosie demands his attention, unsure on whether he would have responded to Sherlock’s obviously heartfelt words with laughter or a hug; either of which he thinks Sherlock may have refused or resented.


	10. Laughing Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is surprised at the door by Sherlock handing him a freshly brewed mug of tea. He smiles his thanks as he toes his shoes off, refusing to relinquish his tea even as he struggles to get out of his coat. He sighs, contented, as he sinks gratefully in to his chair, stretching his feet out towards the low fire burning in the hearth.
> 
> “Cheers for this.” John raises his mug at Sherlock before taking a grateful sip.
> 
> “You looked like you needed it.” Sherlock sips at his own drink, eyes trailing over John’s form and face, reading his night. “That bad?”
> 
> “Yeah. I mean she was pretty, I guess, and an attentive listener..” John trails off, aware of how stupid the next part is going to sound.

The following week is a date with Sioned, a pretty petite blonde who grates on John’s nerves from almost the moment he meets her.He is practically tapping on the table as he counts down the minutes until he can leave, only staying as long as he has because he had agreed with Sherlock to do so when they first came up with this scheme.When the bill arrives he barely glances at it, placing enough cash down to cover it and a tip, and bids Sioned a brief goodbye, barely suppressing a sigh of relief when he finally makes it outside the restaurant.It is only when John is flagging down a cab that he realises he hadn't even waited to see if Sioned had a way of getting home.Or if there was a possibility of a second date, he shudders briefly, not that he’d wanted one.

All the way home, John is restless, feet bouncing and fingers tapping as the cab weaves it way through the light traffic.John can’t wait to get home, he thinks it might be because he is missing Rosie; he’s not seen much of her this week, long hours at the surgery and a night spent tailing a jewel thief have taken their toll.She should be asleep when he gets home, so his irritability for want of spending quality time with his daughter doesn't quite ring true.John stares out of the window with unseeing eyes, the streetlights throwing the inside of the cab into brief illumination before it plunges once more in to relative darkness.

John starts to relax only when the cab pulls up outside 221B Baker Street.He pays the cabbie with a much lighter heart.Glancing up at their windows, he notes with happiness that the lights are still on in their living room.Perhaps Sherlock will be able to throw some light on his uneasiness. 

The front door opens easily under his key and John jogs up the stairs to their flat, popping his head round the door to say a brief hello to Sherlock before continuing up to Rosie’s room.With careful steps he walks to the side of Rosie’s bed, bending to stroke her hair and press a kiss to her forehead.She looks almost angelic, John thinks as he tucks her sheets a bit closer round her, smiling when she wraps her toy more securely against her body.Whispering a quiet goodnight, John backs out of the room, taking care to close the door silently, before walking back downstairs. 

He is surprised at the door by Sherlock handing him a freshly brewed mug of tea.He smiles his thanks as he toes his shoes off, refusing to relinquish his tea even as he struggles to get out of his coat.He sighs, contented, as he sinks gratefully in to his chair, stretching his feet out towards the low fire burning in the hearth.

“Cheers for this.”John raises his mug at Sherlock before taking a grateful sip.

“You looked like you needed it.”Sherlock sips at his own drink, eyes trailing over John’s form and face, reading his night.“That bad?”

“Yeah.I mean she was pretty, I guess, and an attentive listener..”John trails off, aware of how stupid the next part is going to sound.

“But?” 

“But she laughs too much.”Yep, it really does sound as stupid as John thought it would.He hides his wince in his mug, stealing another sip of his tea.

“She laughs too much.”It sounds so much worse in Sherlock’s clear incredulous baritone.

“Yes, she laughs too much.”John insists, placing his mug on his side table, determined to get his point across now that he has made it this far.“I wouldn't have minded if I was being purposefully funny but she laughed at almost everything I said.”

“Perhaps you were being unintentionally funny?”Sherlock posits.“You often are.”

“I was reading out the wine list at one point.”

“Ah.”Sherlock glances away, hiding his half smile before turning back to John.“Disaster date list?”

“Disaster date list.”John agrees, unaware that such a thing existed but acknowledging the practicality of it.


	11. Sherlock's Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cab journey brings a new level of clarity and John realises that Saskia must fancy Sherlock rather than him and that is why he never really clicked on a romantic level with her. He must have been able to deduce it somehow, after all, he has been living and working with Sherlock for years now, something must have rubbed off. The thought doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would. Saskia is allowed to fancy whoever she wishes and Sherlock is unlikely to return her interest, he never does when someone shows an interest in him.

John is thoroughly enjoying tonight’s meal.Saskia is beautiful, her blonde, curling hair falls to her shoulders and her clever blue eyes sparkle with mischief when she tells tales of her work day as a plastic surgeon.Her full lips look thoroughly kissable and her figure is something that many women would pay a fortune to have.She’s everything that John should want and yet…. he doesn’t, although he can’t quite identify why.Their conversation is easy and John tells lots of stories about Sherlock and their work, happy to have such an interested listener.Before he knows it, the meal is over and Saskia is embracing him and kissing his cheek, assuring him that she had a lovely time and asking him to say hello to Sherlock for her.She had felt lovely in his arms but John still feels nothing but an emerging friendship for her.

The cab journey brings a new level of clarity and John realises that Saskia must fancy Sherlock rather than him and that is why he never really clicked on a romantic level with her.He must have been able to deduce it somehow, after all, he has been living and working with Sherlock for years now, something must have rubbed off. The thought doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would.Saskia is allowed to fancy whoever she wishes and Sherlock is unlikely to return her interest, he never does when someone shows an interest in him.

John’s step is much lighter tonight and he reflects on what a difference a nice meal and a chat make.Rosie is asleep when he checks in on her, a picture book laying open on her pillow.John tidies this away before kissing her and whispering how much he loves her.He is met once again at the living room door by Sherlock and a mug of tea, John acknowledges to himself that this is rapidly becoming his favourite part of his date nights.Sherlock lets him relax in his chair for a while before asking him what he thought of Saskia.

“She was lovely.”John acknowledges, knowing this isn’t enough information for Sherlock. “She was gorgeous, as I am sure you know as you arranged this.Very intelligent and quick witted.Very nice indeed.”

“Second date?”Sherlock asks, trying to keep his voice casual even as his grip tightens on his mug.

“No, I don't think so.”Sherlock twitches an eyebrow, a rare indication of surprise, and John expands upon his answer.“I think she’d prefer to date you.” 

“Not my type.” 

“Blonde?”John queries. 

“Female.”Comes the quick answer.

“Ah.”John isn’t sure if more of a response is expected of him and, truthfully, he is reeling too much from the shock of Sherlock sharing such a personal piece of information to be able to formulate a more thoughtful response.He had long suspected that Sherlock was gay but Sherlock’s ‘relationships’ with Janine and Irene had made him rethink that.John takes a moment to think over Sherlock’s interactions with both women and the more he thinks about it, the more John realises that he doesn’t think he ever saw Sherlock show a genuine attraction to either of them. 


	12. Lipstick Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “John, there’s nothing there.” Sherlock reluctantly lets his hand drop. “There’s some redness but it looks like it’s from your constant rubbing rather than from a topical irritant.”
> 
> “Yes, there is. I’m the bloody doctor. I should know whether I’m having an allergic reaction or not.” Sherlock knows better than to argue with that tone - and that the antihistamines won’t do any harm.

John’s next date is a disaster from the outset.Brianna had appeared to be the perfect match on the surface; beautiful, cultured and educated.In reality, her voice had grated on John’s nerves, her perfume had irritated his nose and her table manners had made him twitch.He had wanted to make his escape after the first course.Once again, it is only his promise to Sherlock that he will try to stay for the whole of any dates that has kept John in his seat and trying to be a pleasant dinner companion.He must be doing relatively well as Brianna is still smiling and talking.And talking.And talking.And John really wishes she would finish her mouthful before starting to talk again.

When the meal finally comes to its blessed end, John pays as usual and slips on his coat, hoping to make a quick exit.His hopes are quickly extinguished when he feels the sticky sensation of a cheap lipstick being pressed against his cheek, almost instantly his skin feels hot and irritated.John manages to force out a smile and say goodbye through gritted teeth before disappearing out of the restaurant.He has to blink against the sudden brightness, surprised that it is still light.John checks his watch and is shocked at how early it is; he has completed his date in record time and yet it feels like the longest night of his life.Ever.

The restaurant isn’t far from Baker Street and John is grateful for the opportunity to walk off some of his frustration.He walks swiftly home, rubbing at his cheek with increasing regularity, the irritation now feeling more akin to a burn. 

Rosie greets him with an exuberant hug that goes some of the way towards making John feel better.A quick glance round the room tells him that until moments ago she had been working with Sherlock, examining mini beasts under the microscope and making little annotated drawings.Sherlock’s are gorgeous renditions in pencil, Rosie’s are a gloriously colourful rendition in crayon; John thinks he loves all the drawings equally, each perfect in their own beauty.Under other circumstances John would be happy to praise them, instead he is rifling through their kitchen cabinets and drawers, muttering under his breath about their lack of organisation; they’re not quite the disaster they once were, but not far off.

“You’re home early.Date not go well?”Sherlock asks, helping Rosie back up on to his lap so she can look at the stag beetle currently on the slide.

“I was allergic to her lipstick.” John answers, his voice somewhat muffled by the fact that his head is inside a cupboard.

“Her lipstick?”Sherlock isn’t at all happy that John has been kissing his dates but he concedes it is rather the desired result.He had known that Brianna would be a great match for John; elegant, poised, intelligent and beautifully able to take anything in her stride.In fact, this was the first date he had been genuinely worried about.

“From when she kissed me.My cheek started burning and itching almost straight away.I’m glad she didn’t have the chance to kiss me on the lips. Where have you put the antihistamines?Never mind - found them.”John holds up a small cardboard box, victorious and runs a glass of water before swallowing two tablets.

Sherlock stands up with Rosie in his arms, before placing her back on his seat so she can carry on examining the beetle.Reaching out, Sherlock cups John’s chin, using his hold to turn John’s face to either side, examining and comparing.

“John, there’s nothing there.”Sherlock reluctantly lets his hand drop.“There’s some redness but it looks like it’s from your constant rubbing rather than from a topical irritant.”

“Yes, there is.I’m the bloody doctor.I should know whether I’m having an allergic reaction or not.” Sherlock knows better than to argue with that tone - and that the antihistamines won’t do any harm.

“Will you see her again?”Sherlock asks tentatively.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“She could use a different brand of lipstick.”

“Not worth the risk.”John drinks some more of his water.“She was horrible, really not for me.Everything about her just got on my nerves.”John shivers in mild disgust.“No, this is another one for the disaster list.”

With that declaration he turns his attention to his daughter and, as such, totally misses the confused look on Sherlock’s face.


	13. Recharging Batteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock pours a measure of whiskey for both of them, before joining John in their seats by the low burning fire. Sherlock swirls his drink in his glass for a moment, his eyes on the amber liquid as he mulls over what he wants to say. Deciding there is no easy way to say it, Sherlock downs his drink and dives right in.
> 
> “John, are you deliberately sabotaging these dates for some reason?”

It takes a long while for John to stop being sullen.Rosie had been subdued since John’s arrival home from his date but it is only when that quietness continues over in to her bath time that John realises how much his poor behaviour is affecting his daughter.When Sherlock hesitantly enters the bathroom John makes a determined effort to put his bad mood behind him and smiles at them both.Before long the small room is filled with the sound of laughter, song and splashing, the words of ‘five little ducks,’ ringing out loud and clear, if not necessarily tunefully.

John washes Rosie’s hair whilst Sherlock tries his best to distract her; her usual reaction to the shampoo being put through her hair is to wriggle, often ending up with lather in her eyes which can lead to very loud tears and even more wriggling.Sherlock has made her a special shampoo that doesn’t sting her eyes at all but Rosie will still make a fuss if she thinks she can get away with it.Today’s attempt at distraction involves Sherlock reciting one of Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes in various voices, showing a natural comedic turn that still takes John by surprise.

The deed is finally done and John lifts a happy, clean Rosie out of the bath, Sherlock moves forward and wraps her in a warm, fluffy towel.Together they get her dry and popped in her pyjamas, her fine hair already starting to dry under their tender care.John shifts her slight weight on to his hip, a move that is now instinctive, and carries her upstairs, happy to hear the soft tread of Sherlock’s steps as he follows.John settles on Rosie’s bed, leaning against the headboard, Rosie snuggling in to his side, her eyes already starting to grow heavy.Tonight’s story is ‘Guess How Much I Love You,’John reads steadily and calmly, lulling Rosie ever closer to sleep.Sherlock sits close at hand, a soft smile on his face as he observes father and daughter.Before long, the story is over and John is tucking a very sleepy Rosie under her covers, each man takes their turn to deliver a goodnight kiss before quietly leaving her room.

Sherlock pours a measure of whiskey for both of them, before joining John in their seats by the low burning fire.Sherlock swirls his drink in his glass for a moment, his eyes on the amber liquid as he mulls over what he wants to say.Deciding there is no easy way to say it, Sherlock downs his drink and dives right in.

“John, are you deliberately sabotaging these dates for some reason?”

“What?”John goes from gently relaxed to alert and bristling almost immediately and Sherlock sighs at the predictably.“Of course not.We agreed that you would organise suitable people for me and that I would give them all an honest try.”

“Hmmm.”Sherlock resists the temptation of pouring himself another drink.“The last few dates have been with perfectly acceptable women. They are your intellectual match, they meet your physical criteria and, more to the point, you are the type of man they would choose for themselves.”

“What can I say?We just didn’t ‘click’.”John sips at his drink, avoiding Sherlock’s eye.

“Perhaps the next one will ‘click’, she’s much more…”Sherlock searches around for a suitable word, hand waggling.“Vivacious, than the other women.I was in two minds about contacting her but I think perhaps she might be just what you need.”

Both men come to an unspoken agreement to let the matter drop, for now.The rest of the evening is spent in idle chatter and the rehashing of old cases.


	14. Wandering Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “May I know what happened?”
> 
> “She was very…handsy.” John shudders. “Her feet were wandering up and down my legs too. I kept edging away, I was nearly sat at the next table by the time she calmed it down a bit.” He takes another swig of his drink, eyes fluttering briefly closed. “Her whole conversation was poorly camouflaged innuendo too.”
> 
> “So, she’s a no?”
> 
> “She’s a no.” John is very definite in his answer.

It’s quite late when John returns from his date.From the way the door slams and the heaviness of John’s footsteps on the stairs Sherlock is able to infer that the date did not go well in the slightest.Sherlock huffs before going to put the kettle on.He stretches up to reach two glass mugs before fetching cream from their fridge, the cafetiere, special brew coffee and brown sugar from the cupboards.He is just finishing putting the finishing touches to their Irish Coffees when John returns a short time later from his usual trip to Rosie’s room.

“Everything okay?”Sherlock queries, noticing with quiet pride how John accepts the drink without hesitation.He can read from John’s bearing that he is very uncomfortable about something, that he is trying to limit the space that he takes up.

“Yeah.Rosie woke up a little, so I read The Gruffalo to her and she dropped back off.”John sips at his coffee, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.“This is lovely!What’s the special occasion?”

John puts his drink down whilst he removes his coat and slips off his shoes, he returns to the kitchen to retrieve his drink before indicating they move to the living room with a raised eyebrow and a tilt of his head.They both move naturally towards the sofa, although no effort is made to turn on the television.

“No special occasion.”Sherlock responds as if there has been no pause in their conversation.“You seemed less than happy on your return, I thought a comforting drink might help.”

“That’s incredibly thoughtful, thank you.”John takes another grateful sip, sighing out his appreciation.“I was in an awful mood, yeah.Story time with Rosie helped me simmer down a lot though.”

“May I know what happened?”

“She was very…handsy.”John shudders.“Her feet were wandering up and down my legs too.I kept edging away, I was nearly sat at the next table by the time she calmed it down a bit.”He takes another swig of his drink, eyes fluttering briefly closed.“Her whole conversation was poorly camouflaged innuendo too.”

“So, she’s a no?”

“She’s a no.”John is very definite in his answer.

“I don’t understand why she was a no.She meets all of your physical preferences, she is your intellectual match..”Sherlock begins.

“She was desperate to get me in to bed!”John interrupts, throwing one hand up in distress, twisting on the sofa so that he can see Sherlock more clearly.

“Why is that bad? Surely you’d like to have sex with someone?You even stated, during our initial agreement for this, that you miss having someone to fuck.”

John is momentarily shocked by the appearance of a rare profanity in Sherlock’s vocabulary.“Yes!But not on the first date!And, before you say it, it has nothing to do with our agreement that sex should not be had on the first date.”

Sherlock blinks rapidly, processing the information, searching for an appropriate response and failing.

“She wasn’t interested in me as a person, just in my cock.”John’s anger has faded and now he just sounds defeated.

“I don’t see the problem.It’s a good cock, on the larger side but not freakishly so, and you obviously know how to use it, and the rest of you, in a manner designed to give great pleasure to all parties involved.”Sherlock’s words are extremely matter-of-fact - and delivered whilst looking everywhere but at John.

“I….I.. I really don’t know how to respond to that.”John eventually gets out, his mind racing over the implications of Sherlock’s words.An awkward silence draws out between them, forcing John to speak again.“Okay - leaving that aside - I want something long term.Sex on a first date doesn’t usually indicate that long term is an option.We both agreed on that.”

“Ah.”Frowning, Sherlock mentally crosses out future date possibilities.“We’re running out of viable women.”


	15. Shared Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What about men?” 
> 
> Sherlock is very pleased he isn’t holding his mug as he is certain that he would have dropped it upon hearing that particular query. When he finally recovers use of his faculties he turns slowly to face John, one arched brow raised high, inviting further elaboration. 
> 
> “I never said I was straight, Sherlock.”
> 
> “True.” Sherlock concedes. “Although there was a time, and not very long ago in the grand scheme of things, when you could be heard to say ‘I’m not gay’ at fairly frequent intervals.”

“What about men?” 

Sherlock is very pleased he isn’t holding his mug as he is certain that he would have dropped it upon hearing that particular query.When he finally recovers use of his faculties he turns slowly to face John, one arched brow raised high, inviting further elaboration. 

“I never said I was straight, Sherlock.”

“True.”Sherlock concedes.“Although there was a time, and not very long ago in the grand scheme of things, when you could be heard to say ‘I’m not gay’ at fairly frequent intervals.”

Surprisingly, John doesn’t argue or get defensive, he just sips casually at his drink before answering. “Depends on your definition.Gay, to me, is homosexual.I’m more bisexual.”

“So you were being pedantic.” 

“That would be one definition.”John agrees, grinning into his drink.He’s enjoying this conversation rather more than he thought he might, it feels like a weight off his shoulders somehow.

“You’ve not dated any men, that I’ve been aware of, since you have lived here.”Sherlock feels that he is rather successfully keeping the hurt out of his voice. Why, if John is open to dating men, has he never made a move on him?Granted, there had been a rather clumsy attempt during their initial meal at Angelo’s but John had explained, quite emphatically, that he hadn’t been flirting with Sherlock.Sherlock now rather doubts that was the truth; unfortunately, that was many years ago and any feelings that John may have harboured initially will have long since passed.

“No, I haven’t.”John sips at his drink again, superbly unbothered by Sherlock’s intense focus. “Honestly, for many years I wrote it off as a ‘phase’.Yeah I know, ridiculous.”He waves away Sherlock’s interruption.“I experimented with blokes at uni, tried a bit of most things, but it was never anything serious.Nothing resembling a relationship.Good fun was had by all involved, no hurt feelings.Nothing happened whilst I was in the army,I thought I had it out of my system.Yes, I looked with an appreciative eye but I never acted upon it.Never really wanted to.”

“What’s changed?”Sherlock asks, half afraid of the answer.Has John already met someone, some male someone, and has just been waiting for the right mindset to make his move.A mindset he seems to have gained tonight.

“I grew up. Realised that it was possible to have a serious relationship with a man.”John takes another drink, lamenting the fact his Irish Coffee is nearly gone. 

“So why haven’t you being seeing any men?”Sherlock pushes his drink away, his stomach churning.

“Thought I met one that I would like to try and make a go of things with, many years ago, but he wasn’t interested in me.No one has grabbed my interest since.Perhaps you could find me one who does?”John muses, staring into space, not noticing the fleeting expression of sadness on Sherlock’s face.

“Perhaps.”It seems somewhat churlish for Sherlock to suddenly refuse his help now.

John gets up from the sofa and heads into the kitchen, leaving Sherlock feeling bereft and a little confused as to how he has missed that John was actively attracted to men.He barely registers the sound of glasses being put on the counter and liquid being poured in to them and as such is surprised when a glass of whiskey is thrust into his hand.

“Quid pro quo.”John requests as he sits back on the sofa, his back settled between the armrest and the back of the sofa, one leg bent and angled towards Sherlock, the other leg dangling off the edge of the sofa; the very picture of easy relaxation.

“Sorry?” 

“Quid pro quo.I told you about my sex life and general experiences, now it’s your turn.”John sips at the amber liquid, unhurriedly licking at a drop on his lower lip.

“John, I…”Sherlock halts, unsure that his very limited experiences count as a ‘sex life’.

“What? Want more from me?”John is, luckily, oblivious to what those particular words make race through Sherlock’s mind.Technicolour images of _precisely_ what he wants from John.And where he wants it.And how many times.Luckily, he has always been good at multi-tasking and doesn’t miss John’s next words.“Right, so from men I have both given and received hand jobs, I have both given and received blow jobs, I have - I believe the correct term is - frotted to completion against other men and have them do the same to me.I have also both been the one getting fucked and doing the fucking.”

Sherlock is rather overwhelmed with the unexpected information. “Is there anything you _haven’t_ done?”His gaze flicks to John’s face, worried that he may have sounded judgemental without meaning to.Luckily, John is still smiling, if a little flushed.

“I’m sure there is plenty I haven’t done.Been part of a threesome, for example, but there is nothing that immediately leaps to mind that I feel like I would still like to try.Although, with the right partner, who knows?”

“A threesome?” 

“I doubt I’ll ever want that, I’m not a sharer.”John bites at his lower lip, mulling it over.“Although, if it was something my partner was very interested in, perhaps I would at least consider it.”

“My experience, I’m afraid, will seem incredibly dull to you after that.”Sherlock tries to joke.

“Try me.”Sherlock bites back his instinctive response of, ‘God, yes,’ and decides that he needs to show John the same level of honesty, no matter how ‘dull’ it might be.

“I think the word to best describe my experience would be …. limited.I take a long time to warm to someone, even longer to trust someone enough to share that level of intimacy with.”Sherlock takes a deep breath, determined to continue.“There’s been a few hand jobs along the way, usually given, rarely received.My choice.I don’t really like to be touched or lose control like that around others.”

“Do you think you ever will?”John wets his lips, his drink forgotten for now.“Want to be touched, lose control?”

“Yes.”Sherlock at least knows this much. “With the right person, the right _connection_ , I am sure I am going to be rather enthusiastic about the whole experience.But until then I am quite content on my own.”

“On your own?” John clears his throat, ducking his head before meeting Sherlock’s eyes once again.

“Masturbation, toys, a vivid imagination and copious amounts of research.”Sherlock admits, cursing his pale skin and how easily he blushes.

“Ah.”John swallows and crosses his legs, altering his position on the sofa.It doesn’t take a genius to realise that Sherlock is a little uncomfortable with what he has revealed and John decides not to comment further, allowing the conversation to come to a natural end, giving Sherlock time to recover his normal poise.They share the sofa in a strangely easy silence, both man pondering the new information they have discovered about the other whilst sipping the last of their drinks. 


	16. Big Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uncle Mycroft!” Rosie shrieks out happily, running to greet the austere man. It never ceases to surprise John at how good Mycroft is at bearing Rosie’s exuberant hugs and shrieks.
> 
> “Good morning, Miss Watson.” Mycroft does not bend down to speak to her, rather he peers down his nose at her, with what might charitably be called a smile on his face. “Did you have a satisfactory breakfast?”
> 
> “Yes, thank you.” Rosie answers very seriously, before breaking off in to giggles. “You’re so funny, Uncle Mycroft.” With this statement, she gives Mycroft’s legs another brief hug before settling in John’s armchair with a teddy and a book, happily ‘reading’ to her toy.

Sherlock, John and Rosie are just finishing a rather exceptional cooked breakfast when Mycroft is shown in by Mrs Hudson.Mrs Hudson has scones in the oven so doesn’t hang around to make small talk, disappearing back down the stairs as quickly as her bad hip will allow.Despite the early weekend hour, Mycroft is impeccably dressed in one of his usual three-piece suits; his cool gaze passes over the homely domesticity before him, his nose wrinkling when he notices that Rosie is wearing quite a lot of her eggs and beans.John wipes her face with a napkin, secretly impressed that his young daughter is feeding herself with a knife and fork; he has worked alongside far too many adults who wouldn’t be able to manage as well as Rosie does.Or with as little mess.

“Uncle Mycroft!”Rosie shrieks out happily, running to greet the austere man.It never ceases to surprise John at how good Mycroft is at bearing Rosie’s exuberant hugs and shrieks.

“Good morning, Miss Watson.”Mycroft does not bend down to speak to her, rather he peers down his nose at her, with what might charitably be called a smile on his face.“Did you have a satisfactory breakfast?”

“Yes, thank you.” Rosie answers very seriously, before breaking off in to giggles.“You’re so funny, Uncle Mycroft.”With this statement, she gives Mycroft’s legs another brief hug before settling in John’s armchair with a teddy and a book, happily ‘reading’ to her toy.

Mycroft shifts his attention to John, eyes flitting over his form, posture and face, before turning to give Sherlock the same treatment.The dispassionate gaze returns to John, one fine eyebrow arched, disapproval clear on his face. 

“You are allowing Sherlock to find you people to date?Well, that’s going to end well.” 

“Mycroft, your opinion is neither asked for nor wanted.”Sherlock keeps his attention on the newspaper he had opened upon Mycroft’s arrival.His words sound off-hand, disinterested, only his grip on the edge of the newspaper gives away the fact that Sherlock is not happy with his brother’s observations.Or presence. 

“Going that well, is it?”Mycroft centres his attention solely on Sherlock, highly amused at Sherlock’s discomfort.

“Mycroft.”It is only one word but the threat behind it is obvious.

“I’ll see myself out, shall I?Do keep me abreast of your findings on the Macmillan case, Sherlock.”With a twirl of his umbrella, Mycroft turns to leave. “Goodbye, Doctor Watson, Miss Watson.”

John is pleased that at least his daughter manages to say goodbye, his brain is still trying to make head or tail of whatever Mycroft had been trying to imply.

“Macmillan case?”John queries, deciding to go with the simplest option.

“Minor government scuffle.I solved it within hours of him ‘requesting’ my assistance.”Sherlock carefully folds the newspaper, smirking.“I’ll let him know my findings in a few days.”

John sniggers and turns his attention to the last of his breakfast. 


	17. Disturbed Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, Sweetheart. Auntie Molly will be here soon to pick you up. Daddy and Sherlock have got to help Uncle Greg.” John hitches her up in his arms, making his way carefully downstairs, knowing Molly will be arriving soon.
> 
> “You ….you …got a case?” Rosie manages around a yawn. This is far from her first time being woken in the middle of the night and she rather enjoys the miniature adventures she gets to go on.
> 
> “Yes, Sweetheart. I don’t know how long it will be for but Auntie Molly and Nanny will look after you until I’m home. I’ll call every day.”
> 
> “Sherlock too?”
> 
> “Sherlock too.” Sherlock reassures.

The rest of their weekend passes quietly until Sunday night.Lestrade arrives just as John is debating on heading off to bed.Lestrade looks even more careworn than usual, his silver hair sticking out from his head at unusual angles, the result of running anxious fingers through it.His shirt displays stains of old coffee and crumbs from hastily consumed, substandard sandwiches.Sherlock takes all this in with one glance and puts aside his violin.

“Why didn’t you contact me earlier?”

“We thought we had the bastard.”Lestrade answers, gratefully accepting the mug of tea John shoves in his hand, not questioning the speed of it.John goes to make himself another drink, grateful, not for the first time, that he and Greg take their tea the same way.He keeps one ear on the conversation as he automatically goes through the motions of making his drink, returning to the living room with it just as the conversation is finishing up.

“We’ll meet you at Scotland Yard in an hour,”Sherlock glances at John, checking that he agrees, before continuing.“We have some things to take care of before we can leave.”

“Of course.”Lestrade turns to leave, speaking over his shoulder.“Thanks for doing this.Both of you.”Sherlock only nods in acknowledgement, already on his phone.

Together, John and Sherlock enter Rosie’s room, quickly gathering a few days worth of clothing, books and toys and placing them in a large bag.John picks up the little toiletries bag they always keep packed for Rosie and puts it in the bag too.He gently rouses Rosie, wrapping a very sleepy child in her thick dressing gown and slippers.

“Come on, Sweetheart.Auntie Molly will be here soon to pick you up.Daddy and Sherlock have got to help Uncle Greg.”John hitches her up in his arms, making his way carefully downstairs, knowing Molly will be arriving soon.

“You ….you …got a case?”Rosie manages around a yawn.This is far from her first time being woken in the middle of the night and she rather enjoys the miniature adventures she gets to go on.

“Yes, Sweetheart. I don’t know how long it will be for but Auntie Molly and Nanny will look after you until I’m home.I’ll call every day.”

“Sherlock too?”

“Sherlock too.”Sherlock reassures, taking Rosie from John when she reaches for him.Rosie is just dropping off against his shoulder when Molly arrives, having used her own key to access the flat.

“Oh, bless her.”Molly coos, accepting Rosie from Sherlock and holding her close. 

“Thanks again, Molly.I really appreciate it.”John says, shouldering Rosie’s bag, before grabbing his coat.

“It’s fine, John.I love having my goddaughter.” 

John rouses his daughter just enough that he and Sherlock can say goodbye.Together, three adults and one sleeping child leave Baker Street.Sherlock and John see Molly and her precious bundle safely in to a cab before taking their own to Scotland Yard. 


	18. Laid Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally makes it home Thursday afternoon and spends a few wonderful hours playing with Rosie whilst Sherlock finishes up with Lestrade.
> 
> “John?” Sherlock calls as he takes the last few stairs at a run. “John?” He pulls off his coat, hanging it on the hook next to John’s, glancing around the flat for John or Rosie.
> 
> “In the bathroom.” John’s voice echoes slightly and Sherlock can hear the faint splash of water.

The case drags on for days but John and Sherlock manage to keep in regular contact with Rosie who seems to be having a wonderful time with Mrs Hudson and Molly.They get to hear about her regular visits to Arthur, about how she is trying to train Molly’s cats, her attempts at making a rainbow cake and her daily adventures at Nursery.In turn, they tell her about Lestrade being so tired that he fell asleep mid-sentence, about how Sherlock had deduced where the suspect would strike next based on the type of shoe he wore and how John had been able to rugby tackle a suspect and then use his medical skills to patch up an injured passer-by.

John finally makes it home Thursday afternoon and spends a few wonderful hours playing with Rosie whilst Sherlock finishes up with Lestrade.

“John?”Sherlock calls as he takes the last few stairs at a run.“John?”He pulls off his coat, hanging it on the hook next to John’s, glancing around the flat for John or Rosie.

“In the bathroom.”John’s voice echoes slightly and Sherlock can hear the faint splash of water.Without a thought, he opens the bathroom door and steps inside, mind already on what he wants to tell John. 

It takes Sherlock a moment to register that John is in the bath, most definitely naked and with rapidly dispersing bubbles. 

“Oh, God.Sorry.” 

Sherlock feels heat flooding his face as he rushes out.It’s one thing to pop in to the bathroom whilst John is showering and hidden by the thick shower curtain, it is quite another to see him lounging, very naked, in the bath.Sherlock can’t seem to shake the image of John - naked - out of his head.He knows he shouldn’t be surprised, he has long admired John’s physique, admired John.Before, he was able to cope with his feelings as he knew that he was the wrong gender for John.Now though, everything is different; John, apparently likes men, will consider dating men - just not Sherlock.

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock gathers his thoughts and realises that John is waiting to find out why he barged in.“I thought you were bathing Rosie.I never would have entered otherwise.” 

“It’s fine. What were you after?”Sherlock can hear John splashing around in the bath, obviously quite unbothered by events.

“Umm…”Sherlock is unusually lost for words, his thoughts still drifting back to a very naked John.

“Get back in here, you're letting a draught in.”John calls, his voice light.

Sherlock re-enters the room, ignoring the heat in his cheeks and keeping his eyes firmly above the water line.

“I rarely get the opportunity to have a long bath these days and I thought I’d grab the chance whilst I could.”John lifts a hand out of the water and uses a sponge to rub soap over his chest and shoulders, the movement drawing Sherlock’s eye.Sherlock catches sight of John’s scar before forcing his eyes elsewhere.“Rosie fell asleep early tonight, tired herself out chasing the pigeons in the park with Molly.”

“I’ll go up and see her.Don’t worry, I won’t disturb her.”Sherlock moves to leave the bathroom.

“I know you won’t.”John fidgets and Sherlock gets a flash of bare hip before he averts his eyes once more, heat flooding his cheeks and sneaking up his neck.“What was it you wanted to tell me?You haven’t said.”

“It was nothing of import.I’m sorry I disturbed your bath.”Sherlock leaves the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him and as such does not hear John’s mumbled, ‘I didn’t mind.’


	19. Gentle Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me again who I’m meeting tonight.” John asks, undoing his tie, frustrated with the way it is sitting.
> 
> “His name is Ilyas. He’s a research chemist working out of the Royal London.” Sherlock slaps John’s hands away and turns John to face the mirror, reaching over his shoulders and deftly tying his tie for him. Sherlock lets his fingers drift lightly over John’s nape as he straightens his collar before realising what he is doing and moving his hands quickly away.

“Tell me again who I’m meeting tonight.”John asks, undoing his tie, frustrated with the way it is sitting.

“His name is Ilyas.He’s a research chemist working out of the Royal London.”Sherlock slaps John’s hands away and turns John to face the mirror, reaching over his shoulders and deftly tying his tie for him.Sherlock lets his fingers drift lightly over John’s nape as he straightens his collar before realising what he is doing and moving his hands quickly away.Luckily, John is busy adjusting the fall of his jacket and does not appear to notice either the touch or Sherlock’s hasty retreat.

Sherlock is unable to settle to anything that night, his focus flitting from one thing to another.Luckily, his attention span is a perfect match for that of a three year old child and he manages to keep her happily occupied for the evening.Bath time is the usual sudsy delight and Sherlock is almost as soaked as Rosie by the end of it.

Sherlock is curled up in his chair when John returns, wrapped in his dressing gown and staring in to the lit fire, apparently lost in his thoughts.John slips off his jacket and tie, flicking open the first few buttons of his shirt, before going to make them both a cup of tea, flexing his shoulders to try and ease the tense muscles.

“Sherlock?”John keeps his voice soft as he places the mug of tea on the table next to Sherlock. “You alright?”

“John?”Sherlock blinks up at him, uncurling slightly, surprised to see him standing there.“You’re home early.”

“Not really, I think you may have wandered off to your mind palace for a bit.”John drops heavily in to his armchair, one hand slipped inside the neck of his open shirt massaging at the knots in his neck and shoulders. 

“How was your date with Ilyas?”Sherlock queries, his gaze back on the fire.

“Yeah, pretty good.”John closes his eyes, while his fingers work at a particularly stubborn area of tension.“We’re meeting for lunch one day next week.”

“Oh.”The word is toneless and even in his dejected state Sherlock knows he needs to at least try to be happy for John.“I thought dates weren't to be arranged without discussing it with me first? Although, we never did say anything concrete about arranging second dates.”Not quite what he’d intended to say but at least he sounds a little more interested.

“Date?”John’s eyes fly open, suddenly aware how his casual words have been misconstrued.“No.No, it’s not a second date, or any sort of date, we’re just meeting to discuss some medical advancements.”

“Not a second date?”Sherlock finally looks over at John, observing for the first time how dark the room has grown, the room only lit by the fire and the sidelight that John must have switched on.

“No.”John grimaces slightly when a muscle twinges as he goes back to rubbing his neck and shoulder.“He seems like a great bloke overall, just …. a little boring.”John grins briefly, sheepish.“Bloody gorgeous.But boring.”

Sherlock relaxes a little and properly observes what is in front of him, his mouth going dry at the sight John makes; his dark shirt open, exposing his neck, part of his upper chest and shoulder, the expression on John's face one of pained pleasure swiftly followed by one of relief.

“What’s wrong with your neck?”Sherlock asks, relieved his voice still sounds normal, even as his heart rate picks up.

“You can’t deduce it?”John teases, before wincing as he presses at a particularly tender area.“I’m not really sure.Mixture of a long week and moving awkwardly during dinner, perhaps.”

“Move on to one of the chairs.”Sherlock gestures towards their simple wooden seating.“I might be able to help with it.”

John hesitates for a fews seconds before deciding ‘what the hell’ and going to sit on the indicated chair.Sherlock stands very close to him for a moment, intelligent eyes examining John’s posture and level of discomfort.John should feel uncomfortable with this level of familiarity but he is long used to Sherlock’s intense scrutiny and disregard of personal space.It is only when Sherlock moves behind him and slides a surprisingly warm hand under the collar of his shirt that John becomes fully cognisant of the intimacy of Sherlock’s actions.

For long seconds, John loses himself to Sherlock’s touch, strong fingers knead into tense muscles before the hands turn gentle and smooth the ache away.Sherlock wasn’t kidding about being able to help, John thinks to himself, groaning in relief when another part of the knot is loosened.The hands on his skin pause briefly and John is about to lament their loss when the actions start again.Before long, John is groaning and sighing at the sheer pleasure and relief that the talented hands are bringing. 

A particularly heartfelt groan seems to signify the end of the massage as Sherlock abruptly stops.John tries to twist in his chair but is stopped when firm hands are placed on both of his shoulders, the heat of them seeping through his thin shirt.

“No.”Sherlock’s voice sounds unusual and John writes it off as tiredness, it is getting very late after all.“Don’t turn around, you’ll end up twisting awkwardly and undoing all the good work that I’ve done.Take some ibuprofen before you go to sleep, that will reduce any swelling.”Sherlock pauses before continuing, his words more hesitant than usual.“Let me know if you’d like me to work the area tomorrow.”The sudden removal of Sherlock’s hands and the swish of a dressing gown are the only indication that John gets that Sherlock has left the room and retired to bed.

Once inside the safety of his room, Sherlock leans against his door, cursing the frailty of his flesh and how easily it has responded to the feel of John’s skin beneath his fingertips.When his body is still far from relaxed a few minutes later, Sherlock realises his only option is a shower.A cold one.


	20. Intelligent Idiots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “John is going on a date, Mrs Hudson.” Sherlock informs her, fiddling with his microscope whilst observing Rosie draw. She appears to be trying to draw Arthur - in Wellington boots for some reason - and Sherlock has to concede she’s doing rather a good job of it for a three year old.
> 
> “A date?” Mrs Hudson sounds absolutely scandalised. “Why would he be going on a date?”

The week before John’s next date is a subdued one, Sherlock flits in and out, busy with god only knows what, spending very little time at home and keeping any conversation with John short and to the point.Even Rosie is more quiet than usual, a trip out to feed the ducks and to see Arthur does little to raise her spirits.The only upside is that John’s muscle pain is completely gone, needing only the one massage from Sherlock to ease it enough for John to feel immensely better.

John is just slipping his shoes on, ready for another night out -something that he is looking forward to less and less with each occurrence - when Mrs Hudson pops in.She has some mail in her hand that apparently got mixed in with hers but they all know that it is just an excuse for her to pop by and have a quick chat about nothing in particular. 

“You look very nice, John.You boys going somewhere?”Mrs Hudson queries, glancing between them.“Do you need me to have Rosie?”

“No, I’m off out.Sherlock has said he will look after Rosie, thanks for offering though.”John tugs at his shirt, unhappy with the way it is sitting over his stomach.

“Anywhere nice?”Mrs Hudson helps John to adjust his collar, miraculously making the whole shirt look a lot better with a few simple readjustments. 

“John is going on a date, Mrs Hudson.”Sherlock informs her, fiddling with his microscope whilst observing Rosie draw.She appears to be trying to draw Arthur - in Wellington boots for some reason - and Sherlock has to concede she’s doing rather a good job of it for a three year old.

“A date?”Mrs Hudson sounds absolutely scandalised.“Why would he be going on a date?”

“Because he is lonely.I am helping him to find the ideal partner.” 

Mrs Hudson glances between them, incredulous.“You two really are the most intelligent idiots I have ever met.” 

John waits until Mrs Hudson leaves before turning to Sherlock, frowning.“She’s the third, no fourth, person to say something cryptic about me dating again.”

“Hmm.”Sherlock sounds distracted but John can tell he is listening intently.

“Mycroft was the first.Mrs Hudson had something to say on the matter just now.Last week, when I dropped by the morgue to pick something up for you, Greg was there too.Both he and Molly seemed to know about this arrangement, Molly told me I was an idiot and Greg patted me on the shoulder and said, ‘I’d work it out soon’.”

“People are idiots, John.I’ve always said so.”Sherlock finally glances up from his microscope, taking in John’s appearance with one careful sweep of his eyes.“Hadn’t you better be leaving?Don’t want to be late for your date.”

John chooses not to comment on the amount of disdain that Sherlock has managed to squeeze in to the word ‘date’, instead moving to give Rosie a hug and a kiss before offering up an awkward goodbye to Sherlock as he leaves. 


	21. Sleep Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking closer to what John can only think of as a furniture explosion, he can finally focus on the construction and realises it is a blanket fort and his annoyance at not finding Rosie where he had expected to find her starts to abate. He realises that the whispering he had been hearing has stopped as he takes the final few steps to what he thinks must be the ‘door’, for want of a better word. He is just about to call out when he notices two pairs of blue eyes peering up at him, one pair wary, the other pair excited and far too awake for this time of night. With that, the last of John’s bad mood melts away.

The first thing John does when he returns from his date is pop up to Rosie’s room to check in on her.He takes the stairs up to her room quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she is only in a light sleep, pushing her door slowly open before halting in confusion.Her night light isn’t on, although her bed is unmade, showing that she had at least gone to bed at some point.John also notices that her favourite cuddly toy is missing as are the collection of her favourite books she keeps by her bed.

John makes his way back downstairs, frowning in confusion.Listening carefully, he is just able to make out the sound of whispered voices, one deep and distinctly masculine, the other higher and childlike.John is feeling quite fed by the time he reaches their living room, the date had been a complete wash out and he was looking forward to coming home and relaxing, not dealing with an over-tired child and an oddly distant Sherlock.

“Sherlock….”John stops, registering the state of the room. 

The table has been moved to the centre of the room, what looks like chairs have been placed at various angles and all of it has been draped with Sherlock’s expensive sheets and one of Mrs Hudson’s over-sized, hand-knitted blankets. Walking closer to what John can only think of as a furniture explosion, he can finally focus on the construction and realises it is a blanket fort and his annoyance at not finding Rosie where he had expected to find her starts to abate.He realises that the whispering he had been hearing has stopped as he takes the final few steps to what he thinks must be the ‘door’, for want of a better word.He is just about to call out when he notices two pairs of blue eyes peering up at him, one pair wary, the other pair excited and far too awake for this time of night.With that, the last of John’s bad mood melts away.

“Room for one more?”He asks, bending down a little.

“Yes, Daddy!”Comes the excited answer and the ‘door’ drops down, allowing him to step inside the surprisingly spacious construction.Looking around, John can see that Sherlock has lit the area with battery powered ‘candles’ and their Christmas fairy lights, pillows scatter the floor and Rosie’s purple sleeping bag is spread out on one side, her toys and books next to it.

“Well, this is very nice.”John comments, moving to mimic Sherlock’s position of sitting crossed legged on the floor.

“I had a bad dream so we made this.”Rosie flaps her little hands around, clearly delighted with her surroundings.

“I did try reading to her, playing the violin, even singing but nothing was working.So we built this ‘sleep palace’.I thought it might encourage her to fall back to sleep.”Sherlock smiles affectionately at the little ball of energy that is his goddaughter. “Apparently, I was wrong.”

“It was a wonderful idea, Sherlock.”John reassures him, his face soft as he glances at the two people he cares about most in the whole world.“Come here, monster.”He pulls Rosie in to a hug and spends a happy half hour hearing about her time spent with Sherlock.

Rosie’s eyelids finally start to droop after her fourth retelling of Sherlock finding a dead moth for them to study.John runs his forefinger lightly down the length of her nose, over and over, until she falls asleep.

“That.. that was amazing.”The rare compliment from Sherlock raises a flush on John’s cheeks and he thanks the dim light for keeping this reaction hidden.

“It was something I used to do when she was a baby and struggling to sleep, I thought it was worth trying again now.”John laughs quietly.“I didn’t think it would work though.”

John shuffles forward, carefully placing Rosie in her open sleeping bag before slowly zipping it up, wincing at the noise.John gestures over his shoulder, indicating that they should leave the sleep palace, before crawling out and heading to the kitchen, knowing that Sherlock will follow him.The kettle is just starting to boil when Sherlock joins him, coming to lean next to where John is sorting out the tea stuff.

“How was the date with Gary?”Sherlock asks casually, it almost feels too casually to John but he brushes the thought away.

“Gary?”John pours the hot water in to the teapot, watching as the teabags float to the surface before putting the lid on.

“Yes.Gary.”Sherlock repeats, looking vaguely concerned.“Tall.Dark blonde hair.Green eyes.Works in advertising.”John still looks confused.“Gary.Your date tonight!”

“Shit! He was called Gary?”John looks distinctly sheepish as he puts the necessary milk and sugar in to their mugs.“I called him Larry all evening.No wonder he looked pissed off.”

“Ah.”Sherlock feels guiltily relieved to hear that the date has not gone well.He genuinely wants John to find someone he can be happy with but, conversely, he also wants to keep things as they are.Shaking this thought away, Sherlock returns his focus to the conversation, idly watching as John pours the perfectly brewed tea in to their mugs.“Not the most successful of dates?”

“No.He was far too wrapped up in his own good looks and he was, actually, incredibly boring.Honestly, I zoned out before the food even arrived, went on to auto answer.”

“Not to your taste then?”Sherlock asks, sipping at his tea, his chest feeling lighter than it has done all week.

“It would seem not.”John agrees, grinning before taking a drink of his own tea.The date had been pretty shit, he concedes, but being home is kind of perfect.


	22. Brotherly Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How was your date with Mark? Someone you would consider seeing again?”
> 
> “No.” Comes the quick response.

When John returns home from his date the following week the first thing he does is glance in to the living room, unsurprised to see the reappearance of the sleep palace.Sherlock is sat at their kitchen table, tapping away on his laptop, two steaming mugs of tea beside him.

“Looks like that might be becoming a bit of a habit.”John nods towards the construction that dominates their living room, taking a seat opposite Sherlock, pulling his mug over and taking a grateful sip, enjoying the excellent tea.

“She didn’t want to go to bed so I took the precaution of building it before bath time.”Sherlock closes his laptop, giving John his full attention.“Happily, she was asleep about five minutes after going inside.”

“Cheeky little thing.”John grins, half proud, half exasperated at his daughter’s exploits.

“How was your date with Mark?Someone you would consider seeing again?”

“No.”Comes the quick response.

“Why not?He’s very intelligent, quick witted and tall.You seem to like that.”Sherlock takes a sip of his tea, grimacing slightly, the tea he makes never tastes quite as nice as John’s.

“He looked scarily like your brother.A more smiley, sort of red-headed version, but still…” John shudders.“Definite no from me.” 

“Hmmm, perhaps Lestrade would be interested,”Sherlock muses, before quickly clarifying,“in the red-headed man, not you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may possibly be posting 2 chapters today as this one is extremely short AND I miscounted how many chapters I had - I want them all out in January.


	23. Bloody Cockwomble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is grateful that Rosie is spending the night with Molly and that Mrs Hudson hasn't yet returned from Bingo when John gets home from his next date. The door slamming and the tirade of swear words are enough to wake the dead, let alone an elderly landlady or toddler.

Sherlock is grateful that Rosie is spending the night with Molly and that Mrs Hudson hasn't yet returned from Bingo when John gets home from his next date.The door slamming and the tirade of swear words are enough to wake the dead, let alone an elderly landlady or toddler.Sherlock switches off the kettle and reaches for the glass tumblers, pouring a generous measure of alcohol in each - he senses it’s going to be one of those sort of nights. 

“He believes in boarding schools, Sherlock!”John rants the moment he is through the door, tearing off his coat and struggling out of his shoes before blindly taking the drink Sherlock is holding out for him. “Shipping them off at three and keeping them ‘out of the way’ until they are eighteen.Bloody cockwomble.”John takes an angry gulp of his drink. “Did you know?”

“Of course not.I would never have even considered Evan as a match for you if I had known of his opinions on children.” Sherlock curses himself for having failed to notice this vital piece of information.

“That’s it.I’m done.”John announces, putting his glass down heavily on the table.“No more dates for John Watson.”

“John, don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty?”Sherlock reasons, thinking of his laptop and what his research in to John’s dates seems to be indicating.

“No.I’ve wasted far too much time on this already.”John’s shoulders are starting to droop as he starts to run out of steam.“I’ve missed out on being with Rosie, time I can’t replace.I’ve missed out on being at home, being…”John breaks off and finishes his drink, leaving Sherlock wondering where that sentence had been going.

“Rosie hasn’t been adversely affected by you going out on a few dates.I’ve been here for her, or she's been spending time with Molly or Mrs Hudson.She loves it, John.”Sherlock tries to reassure him.“Yes, she misses her dad at times but she wouldn't want her dad to miss out on a chance of being happy because of her.”

“Sherlock..”Sherlock can tell that John is wavering and gives it one last try.

“Give dating one last go.Just one more date.”Sherlock glances at his laptop and bites his lip before hurrying on.“I’ve been studying the data from your dates and I think this last one might be right for you.”

“One more date?”

“Yes.Just one.”Sherlock answers, relieved.“Then after that, no more dates, if that’s how you still feel.”

John pinches the bridge of his nose, heaving out a heartfelt sigh. “Yeah.Okay.One more date.” 


	24. Final Date

John regrets his decision to agree to one more date all the rest of the week and is feeling faintly rebellious by the time Friday rolls round.Unfortunately, work at the GP surgery had been just busy enough to prevent him from picking up the phone and calling Sherlock with instructions to cancel what ever date he had lined up.

Sharing a light lunch with Sherlock and Rosie lifts John’s mood slightly and he decides he might as well give this last date a go.John’s already decided that this date won’t be anything more than the opportunity of possibly making a new friend and he feels like it would be churlish to cancel now and ruin all of Sherlock’s, undoubtedly, hard work.

“It’s an earlier date time this week.”Sherlock reminds him, passing them all a slice of the orange he has been peeling.Sherlock always gives Rosie a bit of fruit after lunch and John always used to steal some, it didn’t take long before Sherlock automatically gave out a piece of fruit to anyone at the table.The look on Mycroft’s face the first time he had been included still causes giggles many months later.“Casual attire will be suitable.The table is booked under your name, your date will be awaiting you.Get there precisely at 5.30 pm, no earlier, no later.”

“Christ.I’m sure a few minutes either way won’t cause any issues.”John half complains, wondering why Sherlock seems so insistent.

“No.Precisely at 5.30 pm, John.It’s important.” 

John reluctantly agrees and the rest of the early afternoon passes very pleasantly and he almost forgets about his looming date until he is finally getting ‘round to doing the washing up he’d left from lunchtime. 

“Rosie and I are off out.”Sherlock calls from the doorway, surprising John and causing him to splash water over himself.“We thought we’d go feed the ducks, say hello to Arthur, and then go for a little nature walk.We’ll leave you in peace to get ready for your date.”

John dries himself off enough to give his daughter a slightly damp hug and kiss before Sherlock and Rosie head off on their adventure.It is a dejected John that finally gets ready for his afternoon date.The only upside he can see is that it will all be over early enough for him to come home and spend the evening with Sherlock and Rosie.He takes his time getting dressed for his date only because he feels that he owes it to Sherlock to at least show willing for this last blind date.A date John suddenly realises he doesn't know the name of. 

John arrives at the restaurant at precisely 5.30 pm and briefly feels quietly smug until he remembers why he has to be at the restaurant.The restaurant is a very relaxed affair and obviously geared towards families, John thinks it is an odd place for a blind date but thinks little more about it as he gives his name at the door.He is led, rather reluctantly, to a table towards the back of the restaurant and next to a large children’s play area, John only looks up from his shoes when he reaches the table and realises he should at least try to be polite.

“Sherlock?”Stunned doesn't even come close to how John is feeling and he can’t stop the jumble of words that flood out.“Why are you here?Couldn't my date make it?Is everything okay?”

“John, sit down.”Sherlock glances at where Rosie sits in her booster seat, colouring in a picture of a bear.She had waved when John arrived, but she saw her father everyday and the bear was much more interesting than just her silly old dad. “Everything is okay.Everyone is fine.”Sherlock takes a deep breath, trying to calm his shaking voice.“I’m your date.”

“Did they cancel at the last minute?”John lowers himself into his chair, still confused as to why Sherlock and Rosie are at the restaurant and why there appears to be no sign of his date.

“John.Listen.”Sherlock tries again, beginning to panic that he may have completely misjudged the situation.“ _I_ am your date tonight.There is no one else.”

“Why is Rosie here?” John is starting to accept what he is hearing but is still struggling with the finer details.

“Rosie is here in case you thought the idea of a date with me was a terrible one.I was rather hoping that, if that were the case, we could just enjoy a nice meal out and forget about the whole date thing.”Sherlock smiles over at Rosie but his smile starts to dim when John is silent for too long. 

“Hmm.I don’t think I will.”John’s been dreadfully slow on the uptake, he knows, but it is slowly starting to sink in now.

“John?” 

“I rather like the idea of a date with you.”Sherlock flushes at the very obvious look of appreciation on John’s face.“I guess Rosie can be our chaperone.”

John takes Sherlock's surprised silence as an opportunity to really study his dinner dates.Rosie looks absolutely adorable in red cotton dungarees over a white and pale blue flowered top with her blonde curly hair neatly tied up in bunches.Sherlock looks incredibly sexy in black tailored trousers and a purple shirt that perfectly emphasises a body that John has long appreciated and, he can finally admit, lusted after.

“I didn’t realise you still had that shirt, I’ve not seen you wear it in years.” 

“It’s a new one. I've …. filled out ….a bit since we first met.”Sherlock’s eyes widen when John wets his lips, openly appreciative of said ‘filling out’ and it takes him a while to continue talking.“It seemed like an appropriate choice for our first date.”Sherlock looks over at Rosie again, his smile soft.“And Rosie has told me I look ‘pretty’ in it, which we both know is the highest form of compliment going.”

“The very highest.”John plays with one of Rosie’s bunches, stretching the curls out before letting them spring back up.She swats at his hand, annoyed that he is disturbing her work, in a way that is so very Sherlock that John can’t hold back his laughter.“I really wasn’t looking forward to this date but I believe this has suddenly become my favourite date of them all.”

To other people, Sherlock’s smile would probably appear subdued but to John, that slight half-smile, is the most beautiful expression he has ever seen.John can’t help but return the smile before hiding his own behind his wipe clean menu.The restaurant, play area and menu make much more sense to John now that he realises that Rosie is part of his ‘date’. 

Sherlock directs Rosie’s attention to her menu, a large sheet with pictures of the child sized meals, and helps her to choose what she would like before returning his attention back to his own menu.John watches this interaction, his smile turning soft, and he knows, just totally knows, that this is the life he wants.A life with Sherlock; with cases and movie nights, with late nights and lazy mornings, with romantic walks and passionate sex, with found family.A life where Rosie can grow up nurtured and supported by the people who love her most.A life with Sherlock as a co-parent in name as well as action.

John clears his throat a little awkwardly, aware that he has rather allowed his thoughts to run away with him, ever the romantic it seems; they haven’t even kissed yet and already he is mapping out the rest of the lives.John knows that he and Sherlock get on well, that there is a definite chemistry, what he doesn't yet know is whether that chemistry will work at a physical level between them.

A waitress comes to their table, her smile genuine at their little family group, her smile grows brighter when Rosie orders her own food and drink with only a little guidance from John.He knows that to some people Rosie can appear a little precocious, a little bit of a know-it-all,but he doesn’t care what those people think, he is extraordinarily proud of his little girl and wouldn’t have her any other way.

Sherlock and John make small talk whilst they wait for their meal.John has a lot he wants to say, wants to ask, but he knows that now isn't the time.Instead, he shares shy smiles that hint at more,loving how clearly a blush shows on Sherlock’s pale cheeks, surprised at how easy it is to make that happen.

When their meals arrive John spends a few minutes helping Rosie cut up her meal, she's been self sufficient with her food for ages but cutting up still sometimes eludes her.Luckily, she’s never been a particularly fussy eater but she has always been very aware of Sherlock’s eating habits.It doesn’t seem like very long ago that she was refusing to eat if she was busy playing or ‘working’, John had known exactly where to look for the source of that particular piece of behaviour.A few quiet words in Sherlock’s ear had made a huge difference to both their eating habits; Sherlock still doesn’t eat when he is deeply embroiled in a case but he does eat much better on a day to day basis.

“Daddy, can I go play?”Rosie asks hopefully after she has finished her food, bouncing in her chair whilst glancing over at the play area.John studies the area, it’s quite large and there are some older children already playing on the apparatus and John is a little dubious about how safe Rosie will be.

“It’s okay, John.There’s an area for under five’s only, a qualified first aider and,”Sherlock shuffles his chair a little and indicates for John to do the same,“we’ve got the perfect view of the area from here.”

Unable to fault Sherlock’s logic, John takes a moment to clean Rosie up - she still somehow manages to wear a lot of the food she is supposed to be eating - before letting her go and play to her heart’s content.

It is still not the right time to discuss this change in their relationship but John decides he can take a little risk.Sherlock’s hands rest on the table in front of them, loosely clasped together, his focus on where Rosie is happily making a new friend.Slowly, John reaches out and rests one hand over Sherlock’s.Sherlock glances over at John, a slight frown between his brows that fades when John loosens Sherlock’s clasp and links their free hands together, raising his eyebrows in query.His query is answered simply by Sherlock squeezing John’s hand, a half smile playing over his lips, before turning back to watch Rosie play, a light colour sitting high on his cheekbones.

It’s such a little thing, sitting holding hands in a restaurant, but it feels like such a huge step that John can’t help stealing glances at Sherlock whilst Rosie plays, amazed that he is allowed to do this.The time watching Rosie play passes quickly, which is a very unusual feeling for John, he often finds that watching Rosie play at places like this drags, with him just sitting on the sidelines skirting intense boredom.John knows why the time is passing quickly today, it is solely down to the company; the simple joined hands and shared glances really does make the whole experience much more enjoyable than it has ever been before.

“I think it’s time to head home.”John tilts his head in Rosie’s direction.She is rubbing her eyes and valiantly fighting off sleep and John knows it won’t be long until they have a grumpy child on their hands.Reluctantly releasing Sherlock’s hand, John goes and collects Rosie from the play area, skilfully distracting her and bringing her back to the table.Together, John and Sherlock get her wrapped up in her coat and their own coats on before she even fully realises she is leaving the play area behind.John decides not to even try to persuade Rosie to walk, instead picking her up and holding her close to him.Luckily the restaurant is within walking distance of home and Rosie is still small enough to carry with relative ease over a reasonable distance.

“You okay with her?”Sherlock queries, holding the door open for John. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”John shifts her a little closer so that she feels more secure against him, regretting that he needs both hands to hold Rosie and is unable to hold Sherlock’s hand during their walk home.His regret melts away when a large, warm hand comes to rest on the small of his back; the gesture not one of guidance but one of intimacy.It’s a small thing but it means a lot to John, it means that Sherlock is not embarrassed to be seen as more than John’s friend and John realises with a jolt that Sherlock never has.He hides his face in Rosie’s hair for a moment, frustrated that he had never realised that before.

Rosie falls asleep about five minutes away from home, just as John’s arms are beginning to feel the strain.Sherlock offers again to take Rosie but John reassures him that he will manage for the remaining distance.John laments the loss of Sherlock’s touch when they reach Baker Street and he takes Rosie up to her room.With practiced moves, John has the still sleeping child changed in to her pyjamas before five minutes have passed.She mumbles a little when he tucks her in, ensuring her favourite toy is next to her before making his way back downstairs.His heart racing in anticipation of what awaits him.


	25. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why?” John prompts, moving closer to lessen the small gap between them.
> 
> “Because….” Sherlock swallows, suddenly nervous. “Because I had to find out if I could be someone you would consider dating.”

From the moment that he entered their living room, Sherlock has been unable to keep still.He has paced the kitchen, got mugs out and put them away again, got glasses out and put them away again.He has paced the living room, navigating round toys and reports alike, he did settle long enough to set the fire but now he doesn’t know where to sit.Sitting in his own chair will seem closed off, unapproachable but if he sits on the sofa and John then sits in his own chair, he will feel rejected and idiotic for presuming that John would want to sit with him.

John appears to have no such worries, however, taking a seat on the sofa and tilting his head to indicate the other seat.The hopeful look on his face more than enough enticement for Sherlock to join him, a careful distance between them.

“She’s out like a light.”And with those simple words some of the tension leaves Sherlock.This is just John, who he has shared a home with, on and off, for many years.Who he’s seen on the best and worst days of his life.Whom he cares about from the bottom of his heart, even when the existence of that heart had been in doubt.

“She has had a busy afternoon.” Sherlock concentrates on making himself fully relax, it should be counterproductive but within seconds he can feel the last of the tension seep out of his muscles.

“Yes, how did you manage all that?”John queries, a smile dancing over his features.

“We went to Molly’s.”Sherlock confesses.“Took the clothes we needed with us, I’d left the bag with Mrs Hudson until we were ready to go.We did have our walk first, fed the ducks, said hello to Arthur.I had promised Rosie, after all.”Sherlock edges closer to John, happy to see John do the same. “We then went to Molly’s, got changed and went to meet you at the restaurant.”

“Very devious.”John’s tone is complimentary, his body relaxed and leaning ever closer to Sherlock.“I like it.”Sherlock’s breath catches when John causally links their hands, his thumb tracing lightly over the back of Sherlock’s hand.“What made you realise that you would make the perfect date for me?”

“I didn’t.”Sherlock admits.“I wasn't sure until you just said so.”Sherlock takes a chance and brings John’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles, observing how John wets his lips, a sure sign of his attraction.“The data I had collected indicated that you liked tall, slim men.Preferably with dark hair and light eyes.They needed to be intelligent too, a match for your own intellect at least.”

“Definitely sounds like you.” John concedes, his thumb still tracing distracting patterns over Sherlock’s skin. 

“Sounds like a lot of men.”Sherlock replies, knowing that under normal circumstances he would be able to quote exactly what percentage of men met his general description.“Indeed, several of the men I set you up with were that specific type and yet they still didn’t capture your attention.So, I took a calculated risk.”

“Why?”John prompts, moving closer to lessen the small gap between them.

“Because….”Sherlock swallows, suddenly nervous.“Because I had to find out if I could be someone you would consider dating.”

“Why?”John brings Sherlock’s hand to his lips, mimicking Sherlock’s earlier action before taking it a step further, drifting his lips over long, elegant fingers and causing Sherlock’s brain to momentarily malfunction.

“Because,”Sherlock takes heart from the way John is looking at him, his eyes soft and warm, his face hopeful.“If I am honest with myself - and with you - I have felt more than friendship for you for a very long time.Years, in fact.”

“Sherlock?Look at me.”It is only when Sherlock feels the tentative touch of a hand against his cheek that he realises his eyes have fallen shut and he makes a conscious effort to open them.“Do you remember the conversation we had a few weeks ago?We talked about our sexual histories and I admitted that I had met someone years ago that made me rethink how I felt about a serious relationship with a man?” Sherlock nods, how could he ever forget the night that opened his eyes to a whole side of John that he had never suspected existed.“That someone was you, Sherlock.When it comes right down to it, it has only ever really been you.Christ, we’ve both been such idiots.” 

“So it would seem.”Emboldened by John’s words, Sherlock covers John’s hand on his face with his own before leaning forward, sliding his other hand to John’s nape, the short hair brushing enticingly against his fingers.He stops only when he can feel John’s breath playing over the sensitive skin of his lips, his eyes closing.Acting on instinct alone, Sherlock slowly closes the microscopic gap between them, finally pressing their lips together. 

Their first kiss is a simple, closed-mouthed affair but it counts as the single most intense sensation Sherlock has ever experienced at the hand, or rather lips - his ever busy brain supplies - of another.Their second kiss starts off tentative before the gentle touch of John’s tongue against his lip encourages Sherlock to open his mouth, allowing him entry.John’s hand slides into his hair, guiding a willing Sherlock deeper in to the kiss, groaning in appreciation when Sherlock meets John’s tongue with his own.His reaction drives Sherlock into deeper exploration, his tongue dancing with John’s before withdrawing, only to return for more; each taste of him more divine than the last. 

Another deep groan from John is met with one of Sherlock’s own, the sound rumbling through him and raising goosebumps on his skin.Cupping the back of John’s head, Sherlock slides closer, sighing at the sensation of John’s body heat mingling with his own. Their closeness means that John has to stretch up slightly to maintain the kiss, which he does without hesitation.They spend long minutes learning each other, exploring the different ways their lips and tongues can move together, hands running through hair before moving to cup a cheek.

When they finally break apart, Sherlock’s lips tingle and he can still feel John’s against them, distractedly he brushes his fingers over his lips noting their warmth and heightened sensitivity even as his eyes trail over John’s face observing his flushed cheeks, dilated eyes and his smile.A smile that is both shy and smug, a look that Sherlock has only ever seen John Watson pull off with any measure of success.

“That was rather better than I had imagined.”Sherlock admits, smiling when the shy-smugness John is exuding grows.

“Yeah?”John sounds almost as breathless as Sherlock feels.“Thought about it much, have you?”

“Far too much and for far too long.”Sherlock admits candidly, brushing his thumb over John’s lower lip.“I think I will find it to be rather more addictive than I had anticipated.”

“Does that need to be a problem?”John asks, leaning in as Sherlock cups his cheek.

“No, although I must admit I cannot guarantee when or where I will need to indulge in this particular addiction.”Sherlock steals another kiss, keeping it light but savouring each sensation.

“As long as we aren't actually snogging over someone’s dead body I can honestly say I am very happy to ‘indulge’ with you whenever and wherever you want.”John turns his head to press a kiss to Sherlock’s palm before facing Sherlock once more, his navy-blue eyes serious.“Although, I do have something that I would like in return.”

“Anything, John.”Sherlock doesn’t even need to think about his reply, answering without hesitation.

“I’d also like to be able to kiss you wherever and whenever the mood takes me but, and this is important, Sherlock, I also need you to tell me when you don’t wish me to.”John runs his fingers through Sherlock’s dishevelled hair, making the curls go even fluffier.“This is a relationship of equals, we both get to say no - for whatever reason - and we both need to understand that it isn't anything personal and .…”John takes a deep breath, his intent gaze meeting Sherlock’s.“We need to talk to each other, properly communicate.It’s taken me years, and rather a lot of money, to finally be able to say that and mean it.”

Sherlock nods before realising this is the perfect time to demonstrate just how willing he is.“I understand, John and I appreciate that we will both need our own space from time to time, possibly for days at a time, but I promise that I will always - always - be truthful with you.”

“That’s all anyone can really ask, Sherlock.That we try our best.”John laughs suddenly and the sound manages to the lift the mood.“Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d get to snog you on our living room sofa.”He laughs again and Sherlock is surprised to see colour flooding John’s cheeks.“Okay, yeah, maybe in my _wildest_ dreams.”

“Then,”Sherlock leans in closer, “may I suggest we start working on your wildest dreams?”His lips barely touch John’s and he can feel the way John’s breathing alters at this simple touch. 

“You truly have no idea how much I want to take you up on that but..”John drifts his lips over the long expanse of Sherlock’s neck, smiling when Sherlock shivers at his touch.“We agreed no sex on the first date.”

“John!”Sherlock complains, his breathlessness from John’s continued exploration of his neck rather destroying the effectiveness of his complaint.

“Rules are rules, Sherlock.”John teases, chuckling against Sherlock’s neck.A part of Sherlock, an increasingly small part, knows he should protest further but he is enjoying the way John is nuzzling into a particularly sensitive spot he has discovered just behind Sherlock’s ear.Sherlock’s body is responding to John’s proximity and touch and he knows that John’s body is responding in exactly the same manner and that knowledge is intoxicating.For long minutes, Sherlock gives himself over to it, meeting John kiss for kiss and letting his hands drift over John’s deceptively strong back before running his fingers up into his hair, the fine strands caressing his skin. 

When they finally part, they are both breathing heavily and flushed; John’s hair is a disaster and Sherlock knows from the way that John is looking at him that his own hair must be a wild, fluffy mess.Their lips meet in one more kiss before they move slightly apart, agreeing without speaking a single word that it is time for them to call their explorations to a halt.

“Fancy a cup of tea and a movie?”John asks, still slightly breathless.

“That sounds lovely.You make the tea whilst I pick a film.”Sherlock reaches for the television remote, already flicking the T.V on.

Before five minutes has passed John is back on the sofa, his arm comfortably around Sherlock, who is half leaning on his chest, eyes drifting closed as John plays with his hair; the film plays on the T.V, largely ignored by both men.Each simply enjoying the presence of the other and the quiet domesticity of a moment they never thought they’d have.


	26. A Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Morning, John.” The words are quietly spoken, Sherlock’s lips lightly brushing against John’s as he leans in for another kiss. 
> 
> “Morning.” John responds softly, only just managing to hold back an endearment, amazed at how natural, how right, the change in their relationship seems.
> 
> “I had half convinced myself that I had dreamed the events of last night.” Sherlock admits, finally drawing slightly back.
> 
> John laughs lightly, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s temple before meeting his eye. “Yeah, I had a similar thought when I first woke up.” John traces Sherlock jawline, the barely there stubble making his fingertips tingle. “All real though.”

John awakens slowly on Saturday morning, he feels unusually calm and relaxed and it takes him a moment to remember why he feels the way he does.Closing his eyes once more, John allows the memories of the previous evening to flood over him.Long, wonderful hours had been spent kissing on the sofa with occasional efforts made at watching the television, they’d last a few minutes before falling back to kissing again.When they had finally parted for bed, their kiss had been lingering and full of tender words, something John would never have expected to experience with Sherlock - no matter how much he might have longed for it.

Stretching one last time and letting his eyes slowly open, John finally makes the decision to leave his bed, wincing when his feet touch the cool carpet.Slipping his dressing gown on over his pyjama bottoms and t-shirt, John pads barefoot to Rosie’s room.She is still asleep, her hair a wonderful mess of golden curls, evidence of her night-time fidgeting; John tucks Rosie’s foot back under her covers, knowing from experience that she will sleep for a little longer yet. 

John makes his way to their kitchen, dodging the noisy floorboards on the stairs, and pops the kettle on; his actions so engrained that he barely registers that he is doing them.Whilst the kettle boils, John takes the opportunity to send off a few texts, pleasantly surprised at how quickly he gets positive responses.Dropping his phone into his dressing gown pocket, John fills the teapot and sets out their mugs, ready for their morning tea.On a whim, John pushes their mugs together, shaking his head and smiling at his besotted behaviour. 

As if on cue, Sherlock enters the kitchen just as the tea is ready to be poured out.His hair is a soft looking, fluffy delight and his blue dressing gown hangs loosely off one shoulder, exposing pale, lightly freckled skin; John finds this dishevelled look equally as attractive as seeing Sherlock all decked out in his expensive smartly-tailored suits. 

“Morning, sleepyhead.”John greets, handing over Sherlock’s tea.Sherlock is not generally a morning person unless he is on a case or deep in some experiment; today is no exception, John notes, when Sherlock mumbles his thanks before dropping in to his chair to flick idly through an old notebook.John can see the moment the tea works its miracle as Sherlock suddenly focuses on him, his gaze intent as a light blush floods his cheeks.  ****

“John.”Sherlock sounds surprised to see John sitting at their table, sipping at his own tea, a smirk dancing over his lips.

“Yes, that’s me.”John takes another mouthful of his tea, enjoying watching Sherlock obviously retracing the events of the previous evening.

With enviable grace, Sherlock stands and walks around the table to John, his steps evenly paced but careful, as if approaching a dangerous creature.John gently puts his mug on the table and tilts his head up, patiently waiting for Sherlock to reach him.Sherlock pauses at John’s side, his gaze flicking all over John, spending more time on his face before finally lingering on his lips.John holds Sherlock’s gaze, wetting his lips when Sherlock dips slowly down; he pauses for second, his breath warm on John’s skin, before he finally closes the minuscule gap.John lets his eyes close but not before he sees Sherlock’s eyes flutter shut, his expression blissful.The kiss is tender and gentle, the touch of Sherlock’s hand on his cheek only heightens John’s awareness of the love and care that is being put into this - their first morning kiss.

When the kiss ends, Sherlock rests his forehead against John’s and lowers himself to his knees, John keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to break the unexpected sweetness of the moment.Sherlock’s hand is still cupping John’s cheek and he leans a little more into it, savouring Sherlock’s touch.

“Morning, John.”The words are quietly spoken, Sherlock’s lips lightly brushing against John’s as he leans in for another kiss. 

“Morning.”John responds softly, only just managing to hold back an endearment, amazed at how natural, how right, the change in their relationship seems.

“I had half convinced myself that I had dreamed the events of last night.”Sherlock admits, finally drawing slightly back.

John laughs lightly, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s temple before meeting his eye.“Yeah, I had a similar thought when I first woke up.”John traces Sherlock jawline, the barely there stubble making his fingertips tingle.“All real though.”

“John….”Sherlock is unusually hesitant, his face earnest.“I am going to tell you something.Something I should have told you years ago.”Sherlock reaches for John’s hands, wrapping them between his own.“I don’t want you to say anything, just take my words as they are meant and then, after you have had time to think about what they mean, you can respond if you wish to.”

“Okay.”John can feel his heart pounding in his chest, unsure what Sherlock might say.

“You are my best friend.You and Rosie have become my family.”Sherlock takes a deep breath, letting it out in a rush, he opens his mouth to speak before closing again and taking another breath.“I was wrong.Love isn’t a human error, it is what _makes_ us human. _Me_ human.I love you.As a friend.As my chosen family.But also as so much more than that.”Sherlock squeezes John’s hands, the pressure breaking through John’s surprise.“I am _in_ love with you.Do you understand?”

“Sherlock…I -“John begins, before being interrupted.

“I just need to know that you understand, that’s all.”John nods his understanding.“Good.”Sherlock kisses John once more before standing and releasing John’s hands.

Before John can fully process Sherlock’s words, let alone form a reaction, Rosie calls out for them to come and get her from her room.Sherlock looks almost relieved at the interruption and John slides Sherlock’s declaration to the back of his mind, but within easy access for later perusal.

“Let’s go and get her before she shouts the house down, shall we?”John heads up to Rosie’s room, knowing that Sherlock won’t be far behind. 

“Daddy! Sherlock!”Rosie is a definite morning person, always full of the joys of spring after a good night’s sleep.

“Good morning, Rosie Posie!”John scoops her up for a hug, jiggling her slightly and rubbing his nose against hers as she giggles and wraps her small arms around his neck.

“Morning, Watson.”Sherlock presses a small kiss to her temple, hesitating for a moment before kissing John too.

“Morning, Holmes.”Rosie giggles, reaching out for Sherlock who accepts her small frame from John, smiling at their regular morning greeting.

As they return to the kitchen, John questions Rosie over what she might like for breakfast, his suggestions getting more and more bizarre.His final suggestion of elephant toes and marmite is met with retching noises and giggles from Sherlock and Rosie respectively and John can’t help thinking how unexpectedly great his life is turning out to be.

Sherlock sets Rosie on her chair, complete with booster seat, before preparing breakfast for everyone.It’s a Saturday morning with no cases needing them out of the house which means the opportunity for a family breakfast.Often, this just means a bowl of cereals and conversation around their shared table but today seems to call for a little more effort if the fancy omelette Sherlock is whipping up is anything to go by. 

In no time at all, three fresh fluffy omelettes filled with chopped peppers, tomatoes and melted cheese are set down on the table and three hungry people tuck in.Whilst Sherlock has been cooking, John has poured everyone a glass of orange juice and this works well at washing away the slight hint of oil that the cheese leaves in his mouth.John wipes his mouth on the folded piece of paper kitchen towel that they use for napkins and studies the two people that he cares about most in all the world. 

Sherlock chats with Rosie about what he put in the omelette, managing to make it seem like an experiment and holding her rapt attention.John can’t help but reflect on how he initially thought Sherlock would be useless with a child and how that has been disproved time and time again.Sherlock had proved his was perfectly capable of studying his ‘wall of evidence’ whilst comforting a teething child; of jotting down notes on an experiment whilst changing a nappy one handed (John is still impressed by that particular manoeuvre); and, most importantly, of giving Rosie his sole attention, whether it be for reading, bath time, experiments or simply cuddling her when she doesn’t feel well.

“How do you feel about staying at Auntie Molly’s tonight, Rosie?”John asks when Sherlock and Rosie finally finish their conversation about omelettes.

“Yes, please!”Rosie claps her little hands and starts to tell Sherlock all about Molly’s new kitten, stopping suddenly when a question occurs to her.“Why?”

“I’m taking Sherlock out for the evening.”

“Like on a date?”Rosie scrunches her nose up and her resemblance to Sherlock in that one little mannerism takes John’s breath away.

“Exactly like a date.”John flashes Sherlock a quick look, hoping he hasn’t overstepped by arranging the date without discussing it first, the faint blush on high cheekbones and the small smile that John has come to realise is only for him, does much to reassure him. 


	27. Family Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It sounds like somebody has been having fun, Pete’s Dragon again?” Mrs Hudson queries, waiving aside John’s offer to make her a cup of tea.
> 
> ‘Always a favourite, Mrs Hudson.” Sherlock replies, wincing slightly when Rosie fidgets to see Mrs Hudson better and digs him in the chest with a bony little elbow.
> 
> “I’m going to Auntie Molly’s tonight and I’m going to teach her new kitten all the songs.” Rosie declares as she slides off the sofa and begins to gather some toys together.

Sherlock is called away to Scotland Yard not long after breakfast and he leaves with a quick but heartfelt promise to be on time for their date and the obligatory dramatic swirl of his coat.John tidies their kitchen with ‘help’ from Rosie before settling on the sofa with her snuggled on his lap.

“What do you want to do today, Rosie?”

“Can we watch Pete’s Dragon and then go and see Arthur?”Rosie asks hopefully.

“Of course, hop off then and I’ll put the DVD on.” 

John had loved Pete’s Dragon as a child and was delighted when he had shared it with Rosie and she had instantly fallen in love with Elliot.He knows that there is another, more up to date, version of the film but they much prefer this one.One of John’s fondest memories is of a very young Rosie trying to sing along with Razzle Dazzle Day whilst pretending to paint a lighthouse.Sherlock had been equally fascinated by the film and had spent long hours adapting many of the songs for his violin and John is still often treated to an impromptu performance by the pair of them.

By the time the opening credits are playing John is once again snuggled with Rosie on the sofa.She still gets scared by the ‘bad people’ but she knows it all turns out well in the end.John sings along with her on every song and teases her by saying some of the lines along with the characters.This film is a firm family favourite and John has seen it so many times he is sure he knows every single word of it, he certainly knows all the songs. 

They are half way through singing along with Dr Terminus about what he plans to do with Elliot if he captures him when John becomes aware of being watched.A glance towards the door reveals Sherlock leaning against the doorframe, smiling softly, affection and amusement clear on his handsome features.John smiles in response, patting the seat beside him, a clear invitation to come and join them; an invitation that Sherlock rapidly accepts, pausing only to remove his coat and shoes.Sherlock leaves a little gap between them which John shuffles over to close, Rosie fidgets so that she is sitting a little on both of them.John uses her time fidgeting as the opportunity to pull Sherlock’s arm over his shoulders and leans a bit more against him; Sherlock tenses slightly before relaxing and settling his arm more securely around John.Sherlock joins in with all the songs and adopts various voices for different characters, making more than just Rosie laugh.The whole experience wraps John in a layer of warm contentment he is still surprised that he is allowed to have.

Mrs Hudson pops in just as the film is finishing, John rather suspects she could hear them singing and has been waiting for the perfect moment to come by and say hello.

“It sounds like somebody has been having fun,Pete’s Dragon again?”Mrs Hudson queries, waiving aside John’s offer to make her a cup of tea.

‘Always a favourite, Mrs Hudson.”Sherlock replies, wincing slightly when Rosie fidgets to see Mrs Hudson better and digs him in the chest with a bony little elbow.

“I’m going to Auntie Molly’s tonight and I’m going to teach her new kitten all the songs.”Rosie declares as she slides off the sofa and begins to gather some toys together.

“That sounds like a lovely idea.”Mrs Hudson glances between the two men on the sofa and John can see the moment she really registers their proximity even though Sherlock had removed his arm from around John when Rosie had started fidgeting at the end of the film.“Which reminds me, boys, I’m going to be out too.Overnight.I’ll only be next door but Mrs Turner and I have decided to have a girls’ night in once we return from Bingo.”She winks at them both, giggling when they both flush slightly.“I’ll guess you’ll have the whole house to yourselves.You can make as much noise as you want.” 

She leaves them both gaping as she returns to her flat, her laughter drifting up the stairs and making Rosie pause whilst collecting her toys together, raising confused eyes to her father.“I thought you were going on a date, why would it get noisy?Are you having a party?”

Sherlock chokes back a laugh and decides to leave this particular question entirely in John’s capable hands.John manages to convince Rosie that a party is not happening whilst she is out and that he has no idea why Mrs Hudson thought that he and Sherlock would be making a lot of noise. 

To prevent any further questioning John decides that now is the perfect time to go for their walk in the park and visit Arthur and the other ducks.He bundles a very happy Rosie up in her coat and shoes before sending her to the kitchen to get her special seeds for the birds.

“You were home earlier than expected.”John observes as he and Sherlock get ready for their outing.

“Lestrade wanted me to meet the latest replacement for Anderson.”Sherlock adjusts his scarf, contempt clear in his voice.

“That bad?”

“The last few have managed to make Anderson look like a pure paragon of forensics.” 

“Oh, Christ.”The sound of John’s chuckle fades as they walk down the stairs.

As usual, Rosie insists on walking between them as they make their way to the park, shrieking in delight whenever they swing her up.John reflects on how they have never had to say when to lift her up as he has seen other people do, they have always been perfectly in sync with each other; in this as with so many other things in their life.Rosie lets go of their hands to chase after some of the local pigeons that hang around the park hoping for scraps.They’re in no danger from Rosie and merely coo and wander slightly further away.Sherlock watches her, smiling at her antics, whilst John watches Sherlock, still amazed how he never saw how much this man wears his heart on his sleeve.Glancing over at John, Sherlock’s easy smiles slips into a frown.

“John?” 

“How did I never notice?”John asks softly, stepping closer to Sherlock as his frown deepens. 

Deciding that actions speak louder than words, John pushes up on his toes as Sherlock leans down, seemingly unaware of doing so.As their lips meet, John reaches up and slides his hand over Sherlock’s shoulder, coming to rest lightly on Sherlock’s nape, the soft curls brushing his fingers.Their kiss barely deepens before they are nearly knocked over by a giggling, two foot high, human whirlwind.

“Yucky!”

John bends down and picks up his laughing daughter.“What’s yucky?”

“Kissing!Kissing is yucky!”It is at times like this that John is reminded that his often wise-beyond-her-years daughter is still very much only a little girl; and like most young children she thinks that any signs of affection are ‘yucky’ and the fact that he and Sherlock are both male has nothing to do with it. 

“Oh, really?”Sherlock raises one eyebrow playfully, before forming his lips into an exaggerated pucker and dotting little kisses all over her hair and face, eliciting more high pitched giggling. 

“Stop it!”Rosie cries out, batting at Sherlock with her little hands.“Stop it, Papa!”It is this word, this slip of the tongue, that stops Sherlock’s kisses and he raises wide eyes to John’s face.

“Papa?”John queries, his voice even but something about it makes Rosie uncharacteristically serious.

“Yes.You’re my Daddy and Sherlock is my Papa.”Rosie states matter-of-factly, looking at each of them.She purses her lips and draws her brows together in a frown when they don’t immediately express their understanding.“Some children live with a mummy and daddy who love them, or a mummy and a mummy.I have a daddy and a daddy, but that’s silly!Jaime at nursery calls his daddy ‘papa’ and I like it, so I have decided I have a daddy and a papa.”

“Papa.”Sherlock repeats, sounding slightly stunned.

“Sherlock, if it’s too much..”John starts but trails off, not wanting to hurt Rosie’s feelings.

“No.No, it’s perfect.”Sherlock presses another kiss to Rosie’s head before wrapping his arms around both her and John, pulling them in to an embrace.“It’s perfect.”


	28. Perfect Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Later.” John whispers, it’s a promise to himself as much as to Sherlock. He allows himself one more brief kiss before moving away, his hand stroking over the front of Sherlock’s coat before falling to his side, his fingers tingling. “Hungry?”
> 
> “Starving.” The look that Sherlock directs at John, his gaze slowly tracing over John’s body, leaves little doubt that it is not food that Sherlock is starving for. 
> 
> “Later.” John says again, allowing some of the want that he is feeling to show clear on his face and in his voice, a slow smile curling his lips at the sight of the flush high on Sherlock’s cheekbones.

John studies his reflection in the mirror one final time, a little surprised at how nervous he is about this particular date.Rosie had helped him to choose his clothes for the evening before Molly had arrived to pick her up.Thankfully, Rosie had chosen exactly what John had been planning to wear anyway.His navy jeans are so dark that they almost appear black, their cut is excellent and extremely flattering to his build, emphasising strong legs that have kept their tone from the constant running that working with Sherlock seems to bring.John turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder to examine the fit of his clothing from behind; even he has to admit the jeans seem to cup and support his arse in just the right way to really show it off.John smiles at his reflection ruefully, he knows his backside is no match for Sherlock’s rather delectable one but he feels like he at least compares well tonight.Turning back to the mirror, John admires the colour and fit of his jumper, Rosie had bought it for him at Christmas but he can see Sherlock’s influence in the quality and style.A few months ago, when the whole dating scheme had started, John had insisted that this particular jumper was too nice for any old date.Looking at the way the cut flatters his body and how the colour brings out the more unusual colours in his eyes, John has to admit that it is a very nice jumper indeed - and perfect for his date with Sherlock, someone he definitely wants to impress.John runs a careful hand over his hair, satisfied with the finished look, before grabbing his wallet, phone and keys and heading downstairs to meet Sherlock. 

John swallows down his slight disappointment when he observes that Sherlock is already all wrapped up in coat and scarf, the only hint of his clothing is the lower half of an expensive pair of black trousers.John’s observational skills may not be quite up to Sherlock’s standard but he is able to see that Sherlock has taken extra care over his hair, the curls beautifully styled with just the right amount of product.He can also tell that Sherlock has recently shaved, the tantalising hint of his aftershave enough to make John move in closer for a deeper breath.John’s hand drifts to the lapel of Sherlock’s coat, planning on twitching the material aside to steal a peek at what Sherlock is wearing before changing his mind and pulling Sherlock slowly in for a kiss.The kiss starts out light but quickly turns more heated with John backing Sherlock on to the nearest wall, his fingers twitching with the need to drift in to Sherlock’s hair but knowing that would not be appreciated after all of Sherlock’s careful styling.With more self control than he realised he was in possession of, John breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against Sherlock’s as they both regain their breath. 

“Later.”John whispers, it’s a promise to himself as much as to Sherlock.He allows himself one more brief kiss before moving away, his hand stroking over the front of Sherlock’s coat before falling to his side, his fingers tingling.“Hungry?”

“Starving.”The look that Sherlock directs at John, his gaze slowly tracing over John’s body, leaves little doubt that it is not food that Sherlock is starving for. 

“Later.”John says again, allowing some of the want that he is feeling to show clear on his face and in his voice, a slow smile curling his lips at the sight of the flush high on Sherlock’s cheekbones.

“Promises.Promises.”Sherlock replies, his voice a husky tease, one long finger trailing briefly over John’s jawline.John has no time to react before Sherlock is leaving their flat in a swirl of coat, hair and cheekbones, the sound of his footsteps already fading before John recovers enough to grab his jacket and follow after him.

**

John knows that Sherlock had deduced where they were going for their first ‘official’ date long before the taxi sets them down outside Angelo’s but he is still gratified when Sherlock teasingly calls him a hopeless romantic as they enter to Angelo’s effusive welcome.

“I’ve set aside your usual table, gentleman.”Angelo guides them to their table by the window, the restaurant is dimmer than usual and a light curtain diffuses the light coming in from the street; their table is set for two, the place settings closer than usual, the china plates and silver cutlery sparkling in the light of the candles on the table.Even the light they throw out is muted by the coloured glass bowls they are in, giving the whole area a decided feel of intimacy and seclusion.

Angelo adjusts the fall of the curtains and repositions the candles, smiling happily the whole time.“More romantic.”Angelo utters with a wink, before leaving them in peace.

Sherlock removes his scarf and coat and hangs them on the nearby coat hook, glancing down at himself curiously when John realises he has been staring too long.“Something wrong?”

“No.”John clears his throat and tries for a more eloquent answer.“Just… You look gorgeous.Don’t get me wrong,” John hastens to add, “you always look bloody gorgeous.Untouchable - but gorgeous.”

Sherlock smooths a pale hand over his dark blue shirt, the movement emphasising the flattering cut of the material.“You can touch me, John.” 

“Yeah?”John feels at once breathless and invincible.“That’s good to know.”He attempts to read his menu but his gaze keeps flicking back to Sherlock, admiring the way the dark richness of the shirt shows off the pale perfection of his skin and empathises his quiet strength.The three open buttons add another level of enticement, highlighting the tempting, eminently kissable, column of Sherlock’s neck.John wets his lips and gives up on looking at his menu, choosing instead to use his time openly admiring the handsome man before him.The tiny smile curling Sherlock’s lips betrays his awareness of John’s attention but he allows it without comment before meeting John’s eyes.

“You look very handsome too.”Sherlock looks unusually hesitant before continuing.“I am flattered that you feel me ‘special’ enough to wear your jumper for.I must admit that I had hoped I would get to see you wearing it but I never thought I would get to be one you would wear it for.” 

“I never thought you’d be interested,”John responds.“Just goes to prove that we both tend to think too much.”He sniggers when Sherlock just raises an eyebrow in response.

“What can I get for you, gents?”Angelo’s voice makes John jump, for a big man he certainly can move quietly, and he realises that he has no idea what he wants to eat.“I’ll make you something special,” Angelo offers as he collects their menus.“On the house.”

They spend the time waiting for their food chatting about old cases, Rosie and their day to day life.In fact, John realises, this is very much like any other meal; their conversation is an easy mix of teasing and seriousness and John is quite shocked to realise that the attraction has always been there.Not just from him; that has been there since he first met Sherlock, no matter how hard he had fought it at times; but from Sherlock - the side glances, the eye contact held slightly longer than what is considered polite and the light touches where Sherlock usually shies away from human contact.

The arrival of their food alters their conversation for a while, instead it now consists of praise for thedelicious food or mild reprimands to the other as food is stolen.Angelo has also decided on a wine for them, a wine that John has to agree accompanies the meal perfectly without being heavy on the palate.As the meal progresses, legs inch closer together before becoming entangled, the movement somehow both natural and thrilling. 

As much as John wants to just whisk Sherlock home at the completion of their meal he finds himself lingering over their coffee, heads close together and conversation at an intimate level.Sherlock’s hand is linked with his own and the warmth that passes between their palms is intoxicating.John sucks in a breath when Sherlock leans forward and presses their lips together, surprised but far from unwilling.He opens his mouth at the tentative touch of Sherlock’s tongue against his lower lip and moans softly as the kiss deepens.The taste of coffee and red wine bursts over John’s tongue before the more subtle and unique taste of Sherlock floods his mouth.When Sherlock breaks the kiss, John has to fight the temptation to grab Sherlock and pull him back in to the kiss. 

Sherlock doesn’t go far, his lips brushing against John’s when he speaks.“Take me home, John.”


	29. Talented Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh?” John eventually manages, rolling his eyes at his own lack of eloquence and trying again. “Good ‘oh’, or bad ‘oh’?” He admits it’s not much better but it is the best he can manage with Sherlock's hand gently stroking over his bare skin.

John manages to control himself until they have the locked door of their flat between themselves and the rest of the world.Once inside, John makes himself remove his own coat before helping Sherlock off with his, hands trembling slightly from the mix of excitement and anticipation.With deep, steadying breaths John hangs their coats, only attempting to turn once he feels like he has himself more under control. 

His movement is curtailed as strong arms wrap around his middle and a long, firm body presses against his back.Soft breath flutters over John’s skin and his eyes drift shut as warm lips explore his neck, their tentative touch making John shiver and lean more fully against Sherlock, arching his neck in a silent request for more.Agile hands slide under John’s jumper and a surprised ‘Oh’ is exhaled against his cheek, the sound raising goosebumps over his skin and he sags slightly in Sherlock’s arms, taking a moment to regain wits enough to speak.

“Oh?”John eventually manages, rolling his eyes at his own lack of eloquence and trying again.“Good ‘oh’, or bad ‘oh’?”He admits it’s not much better but it is the best he can manage with Sherlock's hand gently stroking over his bare skin.

“A good ‘oh’.”Sherlock responds, nuzzling once more at John’s neck, one hand on John’s hip, the other splayed just under his navel, both pulling John back more firmly against Sherlock’s body, leaving John in little doubt of Sherlock’s growing arousal.“A very, very good ‘oh’.”Sherlock whispers, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just behind John’s ear.“Despite it being obvious you were wearing nothing beneath this jumper I still somehow expected to find another layer.”Sherlock nudges the neck of John’s jumper aside, nipping at the newly exposed skin.“I think it’s obvious just how happy I am with my discovery that you were not.”Sherlock rolls his hips against John, drawing out a gasp of pleasure from both of them.

With nimble fingers Sherlock pops open the button of John’s jeans, causing John’s breath to hitch and for his hand, apparently under its own violation, to reach up and bury his fingers deep in Sherlock’s hair, ensuring that Sherlock’s mouth stays on his skin. With slow, precise moves Sherlock pulls at the material on either side of John’s zip causing it to undo, the sound loud enough to be heard over their panting breaths.John’s knees threaten to give when Sherlock rubs over his erection with a firm hand, the friction caused by his underwear just on the right side of too much.A groan is ripped from John’s throat when Sherlock alters his position, one hand sliding into John’s boxers whilst the other pushes his jeans down enough for him to cup John’s testicles; from the way that Sherlock’s chin rests on John’s shoulder he knows that Sherlock is watching and this knowledge pulls another deep groan from John.The sound is echoed by Sherlock when his fingertips swipe over the pre-ejaculate that is already starting to dampen the head of John’s cock.

“Christ.”John gasps.“This isn’t how I imagined tonight going…..not that I’m complaining.”John’s hips thrust into Sherlock’s touch and back against Sherlock’s clothed erection: part of John’s mind registers that Sherlock must be bending slightly at the knee for them to line up so neatly, the rest of his mind is lost to pleasure.Breathless, John wets his lips and tries to organise his thoughts.“This isn’t going to last long if you keep…” John breaks off, gasping at a particularly clever manoeuvre of Sherlock’s hands.“Jesus fuck… where the hell did you learn to do that?”

“Research.Lots and lots of research.”Sherlock chuckles, repeating the movement and making John tremble, his head dropping heavily against Sherlock.

Jealousy briefly flares in John’s chest.“Not hands on, I hope.”

“Only on myself.” 

John’s mind is instantly flooded with images of Sherlock, bright eyes closed and head dropped back, lost in pleasure delivered by his own hands.John knees give a definite tremor this time and he lets out a wobbly laugh, very much enjoying the feeling of being pleasantly overwhelmed.John’s hand curls tighter in Sherlock’s hair as Sherlock nips at his neck, both men groaning deeply in response.

“Sher..”John tries, his voice breaking when Sherlock tightens his grip slightly and massages his hand more slowly over John’s length.“Sherlock, please.”John doesn’t know what he is asking for other than _more;_ more of lips on his neck, more of teeth nipping at his sensitised skin…..more of a clever, talented hand on his cock.

John knows from Sherlock’s continued position behind him, that he is keenly observing the way that John’s cock moves in his grip, adjusting his hold to display John more clearly whilst still managing to bring John to heights of pleasure he hadn’t realised were possible from a hand job.John loses track of time; his focus on where Sherlock’s skin touches his own.The soft, warm touch of lips on his neck and the firm grip of a hand around his penis make the minutes merge and warp in the most intoxicating way and John’s eyes flutter shut.His hips rocking against Sherlock with every stroke of Sherlock’s hand, the long line of his erection against John’s backside is heady evidence of just how turned on Sherlock is by what they are doing.

John’s jeans and boxers have slipped down far enough that the rough weave of Sherlock’s woollen trousers rasps against his bare backside, raising goosebumps and making him writhe against Sherlock.Sherlock’s hands pause in their administrations and a low groan escapes him, his breath coming hot and shivery against John’s neck before he redoubles his efforts, bringing John to the edge of climax with quick, clever movements.John’s hand tightens in Sherlock’s hair as his hips shudder, his head dropping heavily back against Sherlock’s shoulder as his orgasm sweeps over him.John is vaguely aware of Sherlock groaning and thrusting erratically against him, Sherlock’s grip on him becomes slick with John’s ejaculate, his strokes slowing, halting only when John shudders with hypersensitivity. 

For a moment, John allows himself to sag in Sherlock’s arms, enjoying his gentle touch.It is only when Sherlock rocks tentatively against him that John becomes fully cognisant of Sherlock’s still very aroused state.Gently removing Sherlock’s hold on his cock and testicles, John turns in Sherlock’s embrace, placing Sherlock’s hands on the curve his backside, instantly loving the almost possessive way that Sherlock grips him in the splay of his large hands.

Feeling the sudden need to feel Sherlock’s lips against his own, John reaches up and pulls Sherlock into a kiss that soon turns searing when Sherlock pulls John against him and leans forcefully down into to the kiss.With a little wriggling and some clever positioning, John is able to slide his hands between them and fumbles blindly at the fastenings of Sherlock’s trousers, knowing how close Sherlock must be and very aware of his own need to touch his bare skin.Quickly growing frustrated, John breaks the kiss, panting against Sherlock’s lips, as he tries to get his hands to co-operate. 

“Bloody posh trousers,” John growls as he trails his fingers along the inside of Sherlock’s waistband, searching for the hidden clasp that he has only just remembered exists.With a quiet sound of victory, John manages to unfasten it and he makes short work of undoing Sherlock’s trousers properly; with a sigh of relief, Sherlock squeezes hard on John’s backside, thankful to be finally free of the restrictive material.

“John,”Sherlock’s voice trembles as he smears shaky kisses over John’s hot face.“Touch me.I need you to touch me.”

Not wanting in the slightest to refuse Sherlock’s heartfelt plea, John slides his hand into Sherlock’s underwear, breath hitching at the feel of hot silky skin against his palm.Sherlock’s fingers dig into John’s buttocks at the first touch of his hand, breath coming in shaky gasps against John’s temple, his whole body quivering.Sherlock’s uneven breathing and whole body shudder remind John that despite Sherlock’s confident handling of him it has been an extremely long time since another person has touched him in a sexual manner.John begins to relax his touch, not wanting to overwhelm Sherlock, but a strong hand comes to rest over his own, encouraging him to keep up his movements.

“Don’t stop, John.I’ve waited too long.”Reaching up with his free hand, John cups Sherlock’s cheek and guides him down in to a deep kiss whilst simultaneously speeding up the strokes on Sherlock’s cock.Mimicking one of Sherlock’s moves from earlier, John twists his wrist and Sherlock gasps into their kiss.The kiss turns sloppy and John knows that Sherlock is only seconds away from coming; speeding up his hand, all finesse forgotten, he becomes lost in the spectacle of Sherlock orgasming.Sherlock’s whole body trembles as ejaculate coats John’s hand, John slows his strokes, releasing him when Sherlock gently edges his hips away.

John wraps his arms around Sherlock, pulling him in to an embrace and giggling slightly when their damp, flaccid cocks nudge together briefly - knowing that Sherlock has purposely bent his knees to make it happen.He sighs with contentment when Sherlock’s arms come around him, his head resting comfortably on Sherlock’s chest, listening to the sound of Sherlock’s heart as it slowly returns to its normal pace. 

“That was over rather more quickly than I had anticipated.”Sherlock mumbles in to John’s hair.

“Disappointed?” John queries.

“Not in the slightest.” 

“Good.And we have all night to work on extending our timing.”

“Oh, I do hope so.”


	30. Saving Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shower?” John suggests, head tilting towards it, his hands already inching towards Sherlock’s deep blue shirt, undoing the buttons when Sherlock nods his agreement, his white teeth resting lightly on his full lower lip, a hint at the unexpected nerves he is feeling. Sharing a shower feels far more intimate, far more revealing, than what they had just done.

They reluctantly part when the discomfort of cooling ejaculate and loose clothing becomes too much to bear.With unusually shy, yet relaxed, smiles they adjust their trousers and underwear enough that they are no longer at risk of falling off as they move together to the bathroom.John glances between the sink and the shower, before meeting Sherlock’s gaze as he too looks towards the shower, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Shower?”John suggests, head tilting towards it, his hands already inching towards Sherlock’s deep blue shirt, undoing the buttons when Sherlock nods his agreement, his white teeth resting lightly on his full lower lip, a hint at the unexpected nerves he is feeling.Sharing a shower feels far more intimate, far more revealing, than what they had just done.

Sherlock reaches for John, allowing his open trousers to sag around his hips, John sucks in a breath when Sherlock slides his hand under the edge of his jumper, long fingers tracing over the line of his hip, the simple touch making his nerve endings spark.Wetting his lips, John slides Sherlock’s shirt off his shoulders; running his hands over broad shoulders, strong biceps and sculptured forearms that John has long admired, causing Sherlock to shiver at his touch.

Sherlock tugs at the bottom of John’s jumper and John lifts his arms to allow for easy removal of his now-favourite jumper.John’s hair flops in to his eyes as the material passes over his head and he glances up at Sherlock, smiling at Sherlock’s open admiration of him.His smile turns into a grin when they both shuffle out of their shoes and socks.John has never found a way to take off footwear in a sexy manner and he is relieved that even Sherlock loses some of his innate grace whilst removing socks.Letting his open jeans fall to the floor, John reaches out for Sherlock as he does the same with his trousers. 

His hand rests on the soft skin of Sherlock’s side, the gentle play of muscles under his fingertips evident as Sherlock moves to embrace him.John responds with enthusiasm, pushing up on his toes to bring their lips together, parting them at the touch of Sherlock’s.Their tongues slide against each other, eliciting light moans and fingers gripping hot, soft skin; John nudges his hips against Sherlock’s thigh, knowing it’s much too soon for his body to respond to the sensations flooding his skin and mind but more than happy to be in the moment.Breaking the kiss momentarily, John reaches awkwardly around Sherlock to turn their shower own, letting the water warm.

Returning to Sherlock’s arms, John savours the sensation of his bare chest against his own; smooth skin with the slight rasp of fine chest hair.John hooks his fingers into the waistband of Sherlock’s boxers, glancing up for permission, before sliding the soft material over Sherlock’sbackside and down long, lean legs.Sherlock steps out of them, confident in his nakedness, and reaches for John, clever hands stripping John of the last of his clothing; slow gaze travelling over John’s body, spots of colour gracing his high cheekbones in obvious appreciation of what he sees.John takes his own time to admire the naked man before him.His gaze falling to where Sherlock’s penis nestles, not quite flaccid, against dark, curling hair and saliva floods his mouth as he wonders what Sherlock might feel like. Taste like.

“You're beautiful.”John whispers, fingers drifting over the fine trail of hair leading down from Sherlock’s navel, causing the muscles to jump under his touch, unable to tear his gaze away from Sherlock’s naked form.

Sherlock shakes his head, his own gaze eagerly travelling over John’s body, palm flattening over John’s chest before gliding to his scarred shoulder and then up to tenderly cup John’s face.“You’re a piece of art.All your history is there to be seen; to be read by those that you allow to see it.” 

Lost for words, John responds in the only why he can; his lips speaking silently against Sherlock’s, long minutes passing as the small room fills with steam, their reflection in the mirror becoming lost behind a misty haze.The kiss breaks naturally and John steps under the shower, encouraging Sherlock to join him.Neither man is quite covered by the spray, John’s body is an odd mix of hot, where it nestles against Sherlock’s under the spray, and cold where he nudges occasionally against the chilled tiles.John has never found showering with a partner to be as sexy or romantic as certain films would lead people to believe; water constantly running into his eyes, mouth and even, on occasion, up his nose, has never been something that John has found to be a turn on.He still doesn't particularly find the shower a turn on but being pressed against a very naked and soapy Sherlock certainly is.

Tipping his head back, John luxuriates in the sensation of Sherlock’s fingers combing through his wet hair, gently moving it away from his face.Warm, full lips deliver a series of light kisses along John’s hairline making his eyes flutter shut at their tenderness.John reaches out blindly, managing to locate a bottle of shower gel, with lathered hands John traces over the contours of Sherlock’s body; fingers skimming over lightly muscled ribs and pectorals.John pauses when he finds the scar left by a woman whose motivation he still struggles to understand; his breath catches in his chest and he blinks against the water in his eyes, needing to see the whole, living man before him.

“John.”Sherlock’s voice echoes off the tiled walls, making it seem much louder than it actually is, he covers John’s hand with own.“I’m fine.”Sherlock tilts John’s chin up with his free hand.“I’m fine.”Sherlock repeats, closing the distance between them.The kiss that follows is gentle and filled with the love that John has only recently discovered that Sherlock feels for him.When the kiss finally breaks, they take their time washing the other, slow strokes over soft skin, each touch followed by another kiss.When Sherlock’s hands begin to explore more intimate areas, John moves slightly away, his fingers running over the crest of Sherlock’s hips.

“Why don’t we continue this on a bed?”John draws his lower lip in to his mouth, biting on it whilst glancing up at Sherlock, thoroughly enjoying the way Sherlock’s pupils dilate at the sight.“We could continue that massage you gave me a while ago?”John switches off the water and steps out of the shower, admiring the way the water droplets make their way down Sherlock’s body as he moves to join him.

“You found it enjoyable?”Sherlock queries as he wraps a towel carelessly around his hips, the lingering colour on his cheeks having little to do with the heat of the shower.He hesitates slightly before reaching for another towel and gently drying John’s hair, before gliding the towel over John’s skin, his eyes following the course it takes.

“Very much so,”John smiles, enjoying the attention that Sherlock is giving him. “Too much really, considering I didn’t know how you felt about me then.I felt guilty at the way my body was starting to react to you.” 

“Your body wasn’t the only one ‘reacting’ to that massage, it’s why I had to stop and why I wouldn’t let you turn around.”Sherlock pauses briefly, bending down to carefully dry John’s genitalia before moving on to his legs.“My dressing gown would have done very little to hide precisely how much certain parts of my body were reacting to you.” 

Sherlock presses a kiss to John’s thigh, hip, stomach and chest as he slowly stands up, lingering at the curve of John’s neck before stepping back and leaving John wanting more.Sherlock removes the towel from around his own waist and roughly dries his body and hair, leaving it sticking out at odd angles; something that John finds an odd mix of endearing and sexy.

Dropping his towel on the floor, Sherlock leads John through the adjoining door into what he is already thinking of as ‘their’ bedroom,John smiles up at Sherlock as he lowers himself on to the bed, maintaining eye contact as he slowly positions himself, loving the way that Sherlock seems to be enamoured with even these simple movements.

“Front or back?”John asks quietly, not wanting to break the moment.

“Bcckffrnw.”Sherlock swallows, blinks and tries again, heart pounding.“Back.For now.”


	31. Sensual Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I like the way you taste.” 

With slightly shaking hands, Sherlock retrieves a small bottle of massage oil from his bedside drawer, smiling at John’s quizzical look.

“I did tell you I indulged in self-exploration.”Sherlock says, his voice rich and deep, his hands finally stilling.“I also have lube in there, condoms for when I don’t feel like creating a mess and I have ‘toys’ stored in various places around the room.”

“Good to know.”John manages, his mouth suddenly dry.

The smile Sherlock sends his way is an unusual mix of confidence and shyness.It’s a mix that John finds to be intoxicating and he tucks his arms behind his head, eager to properly experience a massage at Sherlock’s talented hands.

Climbing on to the bed, Sherlock positions himself by John’s feet, letting his gaze travel slowly overJohn’s naked form; fully appreciative of every inch of John he can see and every inch he is yet to discover.Sherlock flicks open the bottle of oil and pours a generous amount into his palm, swiftly closing the bottle and placing it within easy reach.The sweet smell of strawberry fills the air and Sherlock smiles in response to John’s raised eyebrow.

“I like strawberry.”Taking John’s right foot in his hands, Sherlock uses a firm touch to smooth the oil onto John’s skin, knuckling in to the arch and drawing out an appreciative groan.“I’ve not had the opportunity to taste it but….”Sherlock leans over and brings John’s foot up to his lips, with gentle touches Sherlock kisses over the top of John’s foot before leaning back and licking his lips.“Not as nice as fresh strawberries but not bad at all.Although…”Leaning forward once more, Sherlock licks over John’s oil-free ankle, eliciting a giggle.“You taste much better.”

Smiling, Sherlock adjusts his grip, moving slightly up the bed and licks over John’s shin, altering his hold when John twitches, surprised at the sensation.Sherlock takes his time exploring, cataloguing each taste and texture as he goes, barely aware of the way his own body is starting to react.Sherlock nips just below John’s knee before reapplying massage oil to his hands and working them up John’s lower leg, long fingers work into tense calf muscles, sparse leg hair tickling at Sherlock’s palms.John fidgets when Sherlock massages around his knee, the feeling bordering on unpleasant but relaxes again when Sherlock moves his hands to his lower thigh. 

Once more, Sherlock explores John’s skin with tongue and lips.His investigations take him from John’s knee and up his thigh, his hair brushing over John’s skin, heightening the sensations even further.John arches up when Sherlock licks along the crease between his thigh and hip, tantalisingly close to his cock.John is debating on shifting his hips to get Sherlock’s lips just where he really wants them when Sherlock backs away, once more returning to massaging the scented oil in to John’s skin.

John groans as Sherlock’s fingers move over his thigh, his fingers easing out lingering tension before sweeping just under John’s testicles and then sliding away and back down his thigh.John adjusts his position, bringing his arms down to rest at his sides, fingers twisting into the sheets with each upward swipe of Sherlock’s hands.Just as John’s pulse starts to race, Sherlock switches his attention to John’s other leg, once again starting his explorations with his tongue and lips, working his way up from foot to hip before switching to his hands and massage oil.

John is beginning to re-evaluate how long it will be before his body responds to Sherlock’s touch.He knows he is no longer a young man and he had not expected to achieve even the beginnings of another erection so quickly after their encounter in the doorway.It seems extremely likely that Sherlock is going to perform another minor miracle as John’s penis gives a twitch and begins to slowly harden. 

Adjusting his position so that he is sitting close to John’s hips, Sherlock continues with his exploration of John’s body, licking over the crests of his hips and then across and in to John’s pubic hair.John fidgets at the unusual sensation but stills his movements when Sherlock lets out a moan of obvious appreciation, his nose nudging against John’s penis.John lets out a shocked gasp when Sherlock takes his mostly flaccid cock into his mouth, sucking lightly before withdrawing and smiling up at John, his cheeks darkly flushed.

“I like the way you taste.” 

John wets his lips, surprised at how dry his mouth has become from his heavy breathing, and returns Sherlock’s smile, knowing that no words are needed.John closes his eyes when Sherlock licks over his stomach, exploring his belly button before moving up on to his chest.John clenches at the sheets when Sherlock softly draws a nipple into his mouth, teeth just nipping at the sensitive skin and then moving to give the same treatment to the other.Soft hair brushes over John’s skin as Sherlock moves up to his shoulder, his tongue lightly probing at John’s scar before swapping to the other shoulder and licking the smooth skin there. 

Sherlock closes his eyes as the unique flavour of John floods over his tongue, heating his blood and making his heart pound.He keeps his eyes shut as he blindly reapplies massage oil and traces the path his lips and tongue have already taken, long fingers trailing over hip bones before lightly moving over John’s cock, lingering a moment longer than planned when he hears John suck in a pleasured breath.Sherlock slowly moves his hands over John’s stomach, sliding them to the side before bringing them back up and repeating the movement slightly higher. When he reaches John’s chest, Sherlock allows himself time to explore the shape and density of John’s pectorals, the pads of his fingers rubbing over John’s nipples that harden further under Sherlock’s fingertips. 

John pushes up into Sherlock’s touch, opening his eyes to watch as Sherlock explores his body; the sight of which leaves him breathless.A flush covers Sherlock’s cheeks and chest, his eyes are dilated and, when John allows his gaze to drift down Sherlock’s body, it obvious how very arousing Sherlock is finding the massage.John’s hands clench in the covers as he fights the urge to reach out and touch Sherlock, knowing that Sherlock needs to be in control during their first few encounters so that he doesn’t become overwhelmed.John is more than happy with the arrangement, very aware that their relationship - both sexual and romantic - will be very much one of equals. 

Sherlock’s hands drift up to John’s shoulders, his touch slightly lighter over John’s left shoulder, mindful of the mixed signals the nerves in such complex scar tissue can give.Leaning over, Sherlock slides his hands down John’s arms and links their fingers, the new position brings their faces close together and John takes the opportunity to kiss Sherlock.The kiss is tender and slow, ending on a sigh.Sherlock moves just enough that his lips brush against John’s ear, raising goosebumps and a full body shiver.

“Turn over,”Sherlock whispers, slowly releasing John’s hands and moving just far enough to allow John to turn on to his stomach.

John happily does as he is asked, adjusting his nascent erection as he does so.He pulls a pillow under his head, wrapping his arms around it as he turns his head to the side.Once again, Sherlock starts on John’s legs, his tongue and lips leading the way before his large hands massage over tingling skin.Working his way further up, Sherlock straddles John’s body, his legs resting against John’s as he licks over John’s backside, nipping at the meat of his buttocks before running his tongue shallowly over John’s cleft, causing them both to tremble at the touch.Sherlock repeats the lick, nip, lick dance a few more times, each touch leaves him more and more breathless and almost unbearably aroused.With what almost feels like an inhuman effort, Sherlock moves his face away from John’s rather delicious backside and pours massage oil directly on to John’s skin, watching with fascination as it runs over the curve of John’s buttocks.Sherlock’s hands tremble slightly as he starts the massage again, his fingers kneading into the muscle of John’s backside, rocking John’s hips against the mattress, calling forth a heartfelt groan.

Sherlock trails curious fingers briefly along John’s cleft, John barely has time to lament their loss before they return along with a generous layer of massage oil.He can hear how Sherlock’s breath catches in his throat as he explores this hidden part of John’s body and it is this sound, as much as the touch of Sherlock’s fingers, that increases John’s arousal.His cock lengthens and hardens and John lifts his hips to give himself room to adjust his erection.The movement pushes him further onto Sherlock’s exploratory touch, his finger’s just nudging inside John’s rim, sparking nerves that John had almost forgotten existed. 

“John.”The word is choked out and Sherlock’s hands tremble as he moves them away from John’s skin.As much as John wants to ask Sherlock to replace his fingers, he knows that this needs to be done at Sherlock’s pace - for now; and, John reflects as Sherlock kisses open-mouthed along his spine, the pace feels absolutely sublime.Sherlock drapes his full body over John’s as he licks and kisses John’s shoulders and neck, causing John to briefly lose the ability to speak, his mind and body aware only of where skin meets skin and the glide of Sherlock’s penis over the curve of his buttocks.Sherlock’s oiled hands slide along John’s arms, coming to rest at his wrists, encircling them in a strong grip as he undulates his body against John’s.John can feel both the touch of smooth skin against his own and the slight rasp of Sherlock’s pubic hair against the his backside, it is a sensuous experience that John is rapidly becoming addicted to.

Every move of Sherlock’s body over his own, each touch of Sherlock’s cock, pulls a groan from John and an answering throb from his own neglected penis.Sherlock nudges John’s legs apart with his own, a thrill of excitement running down both men’s spines as he nestles between them.Sherlock’s cock rests, hot and heavy, along the line of John’s cleft, the feeling simultaneously too much and not enough.With careful manoeuvring, John manages to position them so that Sherlock’s penis slides between his buttocks, every gentle rock of Sherlock’s hips rubs his length over John’s anus, pulling forth deep groans of appreciation.John tightens his grip on the sheets below him, thrusting back into each of Sherlock’s careful rocks, needing him to go faster, harder. 

John clenches his buttocks around Sherlock’s length, finally causing Sherlock’s control to slip as his thrusts become more erratic, his grip on John’s wrists tightening to just the right side of painful.Nipping kisses are showered down on to John’s shoulders and neck, Sherlock arching his back to maintain contact with both his prick and lips.Half words pour out of Sherlock’s mouth, the start of John’s name interspersed with noises of intense pleasure, the sound of which heightens John’s pleasure, his erection rubbing against the bed with each of Sherlock’s thrusts.Sherlock’s whole body begins to tremble as he races towards completion, a small part of him still very conscious of giving John pleasure too.He releases John’s wrists with the intention of using his own hand to bring John to orgasm, that thought combined with the exquisite sensation coursing along his penis sends Sherlock unexpectedly into his own climax.His hips still briefly before he pushes his cock weakly along John’s inter-gluteal cleft, the movement now slick and almost too much against his sensitive skin, making him shudder with the intensity of it.

John squirms under Sherlock’s suddenly relaxed weight, desperate to get his hand on his cock, to find some relief of his own.His movements rouse Sherlock from his satiated state and he lifts off John, bracing his weight on his knees.John barely registers the hands on his side before he is flipped on to his back, his shout of surprise abruptly turning into a groan of pleasure when Sherlock slides down his body, swiftly taking John’s cock into his mouth. One of John’s hands slides into Sherlock’s hair, the movement of Sherlock’s head as he works at John’s length adding yet another level of intoxicating feedback and drawing John ever closer to his own orgasm.Sherlock groans around John and it is this sensation, this affirmation that Sherlock is enjoying this as much as he is, that sends John plummeting over the edge.John is vaguely aware that he grits out Sherlock’s name as he comes, his hand tightening in Sherlock’s hair as he rides out the last of his body’s tremors.

John is still breathing heavily when Sherlock slides up his body and whispers in his ear,“I told you that I like the way you taste.” 


	32. Case Solved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John turns on to his side, bringing his face into close proximity to Sherlock’s, his gaze shifts to the way that Sherlock’s hair lies in a crazy halo around his head. “I assure you, your hair looks equally dishevelled. Although, on you, it looks rather attractive, whilst I probably resemble a disgruntled poodle overdue a visit to the groomer.”

John wakes slowly, more rested and relaxed than he has felt in years.The light shining through the slightly parted curtains comes only from the streetlight, indicating that John has not been asleep for more than a few hours; proving that it is the quality rather than the quantity of his sleep that is making him feel so refreshed.John stretches, expecting to feel the dried evidence of Sherlock’s ejaculate on his back, and is happily surprised when he feels nothing.

“I took the liberty of cleaning us both whilst you slept.”John turns on to his side, bringing his face into close proximity to Sherlock’s, his gaze shifts to the way that Sherlock’s hair lies in a crazy halo around his head.“I assure you, your hair looks equally dishevelled.Although, on you, it looks rather attractive, whilst I probably resemble a disgruntled poodle overdue a visit to the groomer.”

John chuckles but doesn’t argue the point.Sherlock has always been very particular about his hair and John knows Sherlock wouldn’t believe him if he told him how handsome he looks at this precise moment in time.Instead, John moves closer and tries to show Sherlock how he feels with a kiss, his free hand cupping Sherlock’s jaw, encouraging the kiss to deepen further.John grins into the kiss when, long minutes later, Sherlock shuffles closer, pulling John flush against him, the telltale sign of how much he is enjoying their kiss already evident against John’s thigh.

They lose themselves in the kiss, hands running through hair and over warm skin, the kiss deepening and becoming more heated as they move together.Sherlock slides his arm under John’s side and turns on to his back, pulling John over with him.John settles between Sherlock’s thighs, their kiss never breaking as they move.Large hands grip John’s buttocks, urging him to grind against Sherlock, something that John willingly and unhesitatingly does, groaning deeply against Sherlock’s lips.Their rhythm falters when Sherlock stretches out his right arm, blindly reaching for the drawer of the bedside table, John smooths kisses along Sherlock’s jaw before lifting his head and making eye contact with a wriggling Sherlock.

“What are you after?”John queries breathlessly, his hips still moving against Sherlock’s.

“Lube,”Sherlock licks his lips, eyes dropping briefly to John’s mouth before stretching once more for the drawer.“Condoms, perhaps.”

John draws back, ensuring that Sherlock meets his eye, his hips now motionless.“You want to have sex with me?Penetrative sex?”John clarifies when Sherlock rolls his eyes.

“Is that really such a surprise?”Sherlock nudges his hips up against John again, his erection in clear evidence.“I need to feel you in me.”Sherlock answers candidly.“I know you think I’m rushing things but believe when I say I am not.”Sherlock stretches up to share a brief kiss before continuing.“I have thought of little else recently; being around you has been most distracting.I’d be annoyed if the subject matter hadn’t been quite so pleasurable.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.”Sherlock reaches for the draw again.“Condoms, or no condoms?We’re both clean so it is a matter of preference alone.I’d prefer not to.”

“Yeah.”John says again before becoming aware of how nonsensical he sounds.He clears his throat and tries to make himself more intelligible.“I’d love to do that with you,”John wets his lips, the side of his mouth quirking up. “To be inside of you.And I’d like to do that without a condom too.”John halts Sherlock’s hand as it starts to move towards the drawer again.“On one condition.”

Sherlock quirks his eyebrow, indicating he is listening, his hand returning to rest heavily on John’s backside.

“At some point, in the not too distant future, I want to feel you in the same way.”John presumes that Sherlock thoroughly approves of his proviso from the way that he pulls John in to a searing kiss, thoroughly stealing his breath. When they part, John reaches over to the drawer, pulling out a partly used bottle of lube.He doesn't want to just ‘dive in’, he wants to make this whole experience good for Sherlock and, with careful moves, he drizzles some of the viscous liquid over his fingers and shifts his position between Sherlock’s legs.Sherlock’s breathing changes, becoming more erratic, when John runs his hand down Sherlock’s body, before kissing alongside the shiny trail of lube, his journey ending at Sherlock's cock. 

Aware that Sherlock has never had this done to him, John takes his time exploring Sherlock; first with a simple touch of his clean hand, then with a light lick.Sherlock clutches at John’s shoulders but does not move away, instead arching further into John’s touch, silently encouraging him to continue.John runs a flattened tongue over Sherlock’s length, surprised at how quickly the logistics of giving a blow job returns to him.John uses his lube free hand to steady Sherlock as he takes him into his mouth, concentrating his attention initially just on the head, his eyelids fluttering when the taste of Sherlock’s pre-ejaculate hits his taste buds.When Sherlock relaxes a little under his touch, John runs his lubed fingers over Sherlock’s entrance, dipping his finger slightly in only once Sherlock becomes adjusted to his touch.John takes Sherlock deeper in his mouth, at the same time moving his finger deeper inside of Sherlock.He works hard to co-ordinate his movements, getting lost in the sensation himself until a strong hand pushes at his shoulder, causing John to reluctantly let Sherlock slide out of his mouth.

“Too much?” John licks his lips, the taste of Sherlock still rich on both his tongue and skin.

Sherlock nods, sweat starting to bead along his hairline and upper lip.“Just fingers.”

John applies more lube to his fingers and carefully works two into Sherlock, letting Sherlock’s body adjust to him before curling his fingers to brush over Sherlock’s prostate.John’s gaze is fixed on Sherlock’s face, mesmerised at how everything he is feeling shows so openly.The privilege of being allowed to see this side of Sherlock is not lost on John and he feels a surge of emotion for the man beneath him. 

The last time that John had sex with a man it had been quick and dirty; a meeting of physical need for both parties and nothing more.His first time had been, by necessity of it being his first, rather slower but was equally devoid of the emotions that are now flooding over him.Yes, John had felt a sexual attraction to his partner - lust by the bucketful - but never this all encompassing love that is threatening to engulf him.To drown him in sensation. Even John’s encounters with women, not as numerous or as wild as some might think, have never made him feel this way. 

“John?”John blinks, suddenly aware that he has been staring at Sherlock, his hand unmoving. John smiles, his eyes prickling with unexpected tears, his heart full. 

“Sorry,”John gently eases his fingers out of Sherlock.“I just got a little overwhelmed there.”

“We don't have to..”Sherlock frowns.

John crawls up Sherlock’s body, stopping his words with a tender kiss.“I know we don’t, but I’d really like to.That isn’t..”John pauses, searching for the best words to say.

“John?”

“God, I'm such an idiot.”John rubs his clean hand over his jaw, glancing up to see a small smirk playing over Sherlock’s lips.“Shut it, you.”John grins, deciding to throw caution to the wind and just say what he needs to say.“I just finally realised how much I love you.How much I've always loved you.”

For a moment, Sherlock holds John’s gaze, a hint of moisture in his own eyes before his expression turns from soft and sentimental to mischievous.“As much as I appreciate the sentiment -and I really do, John - at this precise moment in time, I’d much prefer for you to put your fingers back where they were and continue with what you were doing.”

“Git,” John rejoins affectionately.

“Love you too.”Sherlock’s words are teasing but John can hear the truth behind them.

As instructed, John applies fresh lube to his fingers before carefully guiding them back inside Sherlock.Before long, Sherlock is panting and writhing against John’s hand, asking for more, which John happily responds to; his own erection, ignored for now, aching between his legs.John avoids putting too much pressure on Sherlock’s prostate, very aware of how close to the edge Sherlock must be. 

Once John is sure that Sherlock is ready, both mentally and physically, he carefully removes his fingers, smearing a kiss on Sherlock’s raised knee before moving from between Sherlock’s legs.Sherlock raises a curious eyebrow but does not query what is going on, happy to trust John, instead rolling on to his side to watch as John positions himself on his back. 

“I think for our first time you should have control over how far you take me and when.”John gestures with his hands, encouraging Sherlock to straddle his hips.“This way the pacing is up to you.”

John nods his encouragement as Sherlock adjusts his position, wetting his lips as he holds his penis steady for Sherlock.John’s heart is pounding as Sherlock lowers himself, slowly taking John inside.Sherlock takes it slow and steady and John watches his face carefully for any sign of discomfort, gritting his teeth at the flood of pleasure that washes over him, strangely unprepared for how much this is affecting him.Sherlock only stops when John is fully seated inside him, John’s hands clutch at Sherlock’s hips, his fingers digging in hard enough that he fears he might leave bruises on Sherlock’s pale skin. 

“Okay?”John manages, forcing himself to gentle his grip slightly.

Sherlock moves, eyelids fluttering, full lower lip caught between his teeth, his skin flushed from cheekbone to chest and John groans, his voice mingling with Sherlock’s. 

“Very.”Sherlock finally responds, carefully adjusting his position.“I feel ….” Sherlock groans loudly as he lifts and lowers himself again. “..full.But in a _very_ good way.”

As John knew he would, Sherlock experiments with his position and speed, slowly driving John crazy; his grip tightens again and he resists the temptation to thrust up.Sherlock rises up again, dropping heavily, a groan ripping from him and John knows that he has found the perfect angle.The last of Sherlock’s reserve is thrown to the wind, groans and half words falling from his lips as he rides John, his thighs trembling with exertion. 

Moving his hands to rest on Sherlock’s thighs, John is unable to tear his eyes away from Sherlock, mesmerised by the sight he makes, defences down, lost in giving and receiving pleasure.John knows neither of them can last for much longer and reaches for Sherlock’s cock, sliding his hand over its length, the movement made easy by the amount of pre-ejaculate that Sherlock is leaking.John is only able to savour the sensation for a brief moment before his hand is moved away.

“No.”Sherlock manages to get out, his movements not faltering, sweat starting bead on the long column of his neck.

“Do you…..” John’s head thumps back on the pillow at a particularly clever move of Sherlock’s hips.“Do you need to stop?”It’s the last thing John wants to do but he will, if that is what Sherlock needs from him.

“No.God, no.”Sherlock gasps, throwing his head back as he increases his pace.“Just, too much at once.Too many variables out of my control.”

John just has time to marvel at how, even in the throes of unreserved passion, Sherlock is still able to sound like the cleverest person in Great Britain, before Sherlock’s rhythm becomes erratic.John watches in wonder as Sherlock takes himself in hand, his hurried motion matching that of his hips.John’s fights against his own climax, needing to see Sherlock come first.Luckily, he does not need to wait long.Sherlock’s movements lose all remnants of grace or control, before he shudders and slows, his ejaculate splashing warmly on to John’s stomach.This sensation and the sound of his name being groaned out is enough to trigger John’s orgasm; he thrusts up into Sherlock, needing to extend the moment before pulling Sherlock down against him, mindless of the ejaculate between them.

They lose track of how much time passes as they rest, chests heaving as they slowly recover.When Sherlock shivers, John gently moves him to lie on his side before reaching for some tissues to clean them up.He gives his stomach a cursory wipe but takes more time to clear Sherlock up, visually checking with Sherlock that he is happy with this level of intimacy. 

Once done, John shuffles back over to where Sherlock still rests and offers his arm, smiling when Sherlock accepts the unspoken invitation, pulling the covers over them as he moves.Sherlock rests his head on John’s chest, their legs entwined, his arm over John’s middle, his other hand curled up near his chin, his arm resting between their bodies.John plays contentedly with Sherlock’s hair, his eyes growing heavy as a chuckle escapes him.Sherlock makes an interrogative noise but snuggles in closer, obviously more than half asleep.

“You solved it, then.”John murmurs, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s sweat damp hair.

“Solved what?” 

“The Case of The Lonely Doctor.”John’s grin is obvious in his voice.

Sherlock takes so long to answer that John thinks he has fallen asleep, John is on the edge of sleep himself when he hears a tired but very loving, ‘idiot,’ in response; grinning, John snuggles in and lets sleep overtake him, thoroughly content with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks!
> 
> My huge thanks goes to all my lovely readers, my wonderful commenters and to the fabulous Tad for giving me the opportunity to write such a fun story! 
> 
> This story was supposed to be a min. of approx. 20,000 words, it is much closer to 34,000 words - hopefully those extra words did not disappoint!


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